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THE  COLUMN  AND  THE  AECH 


THE  COLUMN  and  THE  ARCH 
ESSAYS 

On  architectural  HISTORY 

WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS 


By 

WILLIAM  P.  P.  LONGFELLOW 


NEW  YORK 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
1899  ' 


Copyright,  1898,  by 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


TROW  DIRECTORY 
PRINTINQ  AND  BOOKBINOmO  COMPANY 
NEW  YORK 


PREFACE 


Some  of  these  essays  have  been  ah'eady  printed, 
and  I  have  to  thank  the  proprietors  of  the  Amer- 
ican Architect  and  the  Architectural  Record  for  per- 
mission to  repeat  them  here ;  others  of  them  ap- 
pear now  for  the  first  time.  I  have  brought  them 
together  with  the  wish  to  trace  in  sequence  the 
main  thread  that  binds  the  successive  phases  of 
European  architecture,  and  the  evolution  of  the 
two  leading  features  of  its  forms,  the  classic  order 
and  the  arch.  I  have  passed  by  the  Byzantine 
style  because  it  was  a  collateral  development,  and 
outside  the  cycle  which,  beginning  with  Greek 
architecture,  returned  upon  itself  in  the  Kenais- 
sance.  For  a  like  reason  I  have  touched  but  lightly 
on  the  Gothic,  a  splendid  growth  that  structurally 
was  the  completion  of  the  Eomanesque,  but,  as  a 
matter  of  form,  was  hors  de  ligne,  like  the  Byzan- 
tine, and  like  it  had  no  successor ;  for  the  logical 
predecessor  of  the  Renaissance  was  the  Eoman- 
esque, and  the  development  of  the  older  forms  was 
finished  when  that  merged  in  the  pointed  Gothic. 

While  I  have  made  the  essays  historically  con- 


vi 


PREFACE 


secutive  and  have  carried  the  same  line  of  thoiigLt 
through  them,  I  have  not  tried  to  make  them  con- 
tinuous. I  have  allowed  certain  repetitions  be- 
cause they  cover  points  which  seem  to  me  important 
to  keep  in  mind  and  necessary  to  the  completeness 
of  the  several  discussions. 

W.  P.  P.  L. 

Cambridge,  November,  1898. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

I.  The  Lotus  Column  1 

II.  GRiEco-RoMAN  Architecture  ...  19 

III.  The  Age  of  Constantine  ....  61 

IV.  Early  Christian  Architecture     .      .  90 
V.  Santa  Maria  Maggiore    .      .      .  .125 

VI.  Romanesque  Architecture      .      .  .154 

VII.  The  Renaissance  222 

VIII.  Saint  Peter's  262 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING 
PAGE 

Medinet-Abu— Columns  of  Rameses  III.  .      .  1 

Lotus  Columns— 1.  Abusir,  2.  Bubastis.  From 

Foucart   6 

Theseum,  Athens— The  Greek  Order     .      .  19 

Arch  op  Septimius  Severus,  Rome— The  Ro- 
man Order   48 

Santa  Costanza,  Rome— Time  of  Constantine  61 

San  Apollinare  in  Classe,  Ravenna— Early 

Christian  Basilica   90 

Santa  Maria  Maggiore,  Rome — Rear  Facade  125 

Santa  Maria  Maggiore,  Rome— Interior      .  134 

Cathedral,  Speyer — Romanesque  Towers     .  154 

Cathedraii,  Genoa— South  Doorway      .  .178 

Cathedral,  Parma— Double  Bays  and  Clus- 
tered Piers   190 

Cathedral,  Florence— Brunelleschi's  Dome  .  222 

San  Spirito,  Florence— Brunelleschi's  Order  238 

San  Andrea,  Mantua — Alberti's  Order  .      .  254 

St.  Peter's,  Rome— Michelangelo's  Dome     .  262 

St.  Peter's,  Rome— Michelangelo's  Sketch. 

From  a  drawing  in  the  Uffizi  Gallery  .      .  290 


MEDINET-ABU 
uiniis  of  Rameses  III. 


THE  LOTUS  COLUMN 


Conventional  ornament  among  the  ancient 
Egyptians,  as  among  all  primitive  peoples,  re- 
flected their  habits  of  life.  They  were  a  flower- 
loving  people.  Living  on  a  long  strip  of  fertile 
alluvial  land,  exhaustively  cultivated,  and  bordered 
by  bare  hills  or  desert  sands,  they  had  few  trees 
or  even  shrubs  besides  the  palms  that  grew  on  the 
edge  of  the  desert.  But  the  river-banks,  the  pools 
left  by  the  inundations,  and  the  wet  marshes  dur- 
ing their  season,  gave  them  abundance  of  wild 
aquatic  plants,  and  their  gardens  were  full  of 
bloom.  They  decorated  their  houses  with  flowers, 
covered  their  altars  and  filled  their  tombs  with 
them ;  the  women  wore  them  in  their  hair.  They 
carved  them  on  the  stems  and  sterns  of  their 
boats,  on  their  thrones  and  harps ;  they  painted 
them  on  their  ceilings  and  walls,  on  their  chests 
and  coffins.  It  brings  these  remote  and  grimly 
imaged  people  curiously  near  to  real  life  to  be 
told  that  in  the  tomb  of  a  high  priest  of  Ammon, 
which  was  opened  half  a  dozen  years  ago  at  Deir- 
el-Bahari,  among  the   withered   garlands  and 

1 


2 


THE  LOTUS  COLUMN 


wreaths  of  flowers  beside  the  dead  man  lay  a  bee. 
It  had  been  tempted  in  by  the  freshness  of  the 
flowers  when  they  were  laid  there,  and  had  been 
intombed  with  them  for  five  thousand  years.  Pos- 
sibly the  Egyptians'  love  of  color  grew  out  of  their 
love  of  flowers ;  at  least  the  two  were  in  accord. 
Everything  they  decorated  was  alive  with  color, 
generally  with  bright  color,  and  everything  they 
used  or  made  they  decorated.  They  painted  their 
statues,  the  bas-reliefs  that  covered  the  walls  of 
their  houses  and  tombs,  and  the  pylons  of  their 
temples.  Their  ceilings,  their  cornices  and  col- 
umns, their  mummy  cases,  furniture,  and  imple- 
ments, even  the  sails  of  their  boats,  were  covered 
with  a  mosaic  of  painted  ornament. 

The  basis  of  this  decoration,  so  far  as  it  was  not 
pictorial,  or  hieroglyphic,  or  purely  abstract,  that 
is,  so  far  as  it  was  absolute  ornament,  was  almost 
entirely  floral.  The  aquatic  plants  w^hich  were 
native  to  the  Nile  gave  types  that  were  peculiarly 
apt  for  this  use.  The  skill  with  which  the  Egyp- 
tians used  them  in  borders,  surface  patterns,  and 
other  conventionally  applied  ornament  is  conspic- 
uous. They  not  only  conventionalized  their  ele- 
ments with  marvellous  skill  in  the  borders  and 
panels  of  walls  and  ceilings,  on  mummy  cases  and 
chests,  but  they  painted  or  carved  them  alone  and 
in  groups  along  the  bases  of  walls  and  round  the 
shafts  and  capitals  of  columns.    With  this  simply 


THE  LOTUS  COLUMN 


3 


ornamental  use  of  floral  motives  there  was  also 
much  of  symbolism.  The  favorite  lotus,  emblem 
of  the  resurrection  and  of  the  sun,  was  a  religious 
symbol,  consecrated  to  the  sun-god  Osiris,  and  is 
the  most  abundant  element  of  their  decoration. 
They  decorated  their  temples  with  its  natural 
flowers,  laid  them  on  their  altars  and  in  their 
graves,  and  hung  them  in  clusters  about  the  posts 
of  their  tabernacles.  Its  ian-like  open  blossoms 
and  long  olive-shaped  buAs  are  seen  everywhere 
in  paintings  and  bas-reliefs.  You  may  find  it  as 
an  offering  in  the  hands  of  priests  or  kings,  gath- 
ered in  heavy  bunches,  or  coiled  into  the  likeness 
of  a  trumpet,  or  piled  in  heaps  among  the  harvest 
tribute.  The  decorative  handling  to  which  the 
Egyptians  subject  it  is  singularly  firm  and  monu- 
mental, and  at  the  same  time  singularly  free.  It 
appears  carved  into  the  high  finial  that  overhangs 
the  steersman  of  a  Nile  boat,  or  twined  round  the 
handle  of  a  spoon,  or  wrapped  about  the  body  of  a 
vase  and  spread  open  to  form  its  foot.  Even  the 
prisoners  that  kneel  at  the  feet  of  the  great  statue 
of  Rameses  II.  in  the  Ramesseum  are  tied  to- 
gether with  a  rope  whose  ends  are  tasselled  with 
flowers. 

There  are  innumerable  examples,  pictured  in 
papyri  and  bas-reliefs,  of  various  types  of  columns. 
Some  are  mere  compositions  of  floral  and  other 
unarchitectural  elements,  as  unreal  as  the  most 


4 


THE  LOTUS  COLVMN 


incredible  painted  architecture  of  the  Pompeian 
decorators,  or  the  panelling  of  the  Renaissance  or 
the  Rococo ;  others  have  the  air  of  imitating  more 
or  less  closely  real  constructions.  They  are  all 
much  attenuated,  as  indeed  architectui*al  forms  or- 
dinarily are,  in  conventional  representations  of 
every  style;  and  they  range  from  the  simplest 
outline  to  elaborate  delineation.  It  is  difficult 
and  dangerous  to  draw  decisive  conclusions  from 
pictures  which  seem  to  treat  their  originals  with 
so  much  freedom.  Archaeologists  have  disputed 
much  about  their  meaning.  By  far  the  greater 
part  of  the  representations  show  distinctly  one 
order  of  forms  without  very  essential  variations. 
Tliey  consist  of  a  slender  shaft  crowned  with  a  sin- 
gle lotus  or  a  bunch  of  them,  sometimes  the  open 
flower  and  sometimes  the  close  bud.  The  more 
carefully  drawn  are  apt  to  show  a  bunch  of  flow- 
ers or  buds  tied  close  about  the  upper  end  of  the 
shaft  by  a  banded  ligature,  whose  ends  are  often 
floating  in  the  air;  and  smaller  buds,  set  about 
the  base  of  the  larger  cluster,  are  tucked  in  be- 
neath the  ligature,  with  their  stems  hanging  down 
below  it.  We  may  even  see  tall  flowers  reared 
against  the  shafts  as  if  they  had  grown  there, 
and  tied  to  it  by  other  bands.  The  lotus  being 
their  favorite  religious  emblem,  it  was  natural 
enough  that  it  should  be  used  about  tombs  and 
shrines,  and  there  we  find  it  in  abundance,  both  in 


TEE  LOTUS  COLUMN- 


5 


the  architecture  of  the  tombs  themselves  and  in 
pictures  of  shrines  and  canopies  over  the  gods.  It 
is  all  in  accordance  with  what  we  know  of  the 
evolution  of  architecture  among  ancient  peoples, 
Egyptians,  Assyrians,  and  Greeks  alike,  that  when 
they  came  to  develop  monumental  forms  they 
should  fix  in  solid  material  the  semblance  of  these 
decorations. 

It  is  the  distinction  of  the  Egyptian  capitals 
among  all  others  that  they  alone  have  no  practical 
office,  and  this  accords  well  with  their  floral  ori- 
gin. From  the  Greeks  down,  every  capital  has 
shown,  besides  the  wish  to  mark  the  transition  be- 
tween the  shaft  and  the  beam  or  arch,  which  is  the 
aesthetic  office  of  every  capital,  a  distinct  structural 
effort  to  strengthen  the  junction  of  the  shaft  and 
its  load.  All  other  capitals  expand  where  they 
take  hold  of  the  lintel  or  archivolt.  They  seem  to 
show  that  the  upper  end  of  the  shaft  was  liberally 
enlarged  where  it  receives  the  charge,  and  then 
what  material  could  be  spared  at  the  corners  was 
cut  away  in  ornamental  forms  to  smooth  the  pas- 
sage from  the  round  shaft  to  the  angular  mass 
above.  This  is  most  manifest  in  those  styles  in 
which  the  shaft  is  slenderest  in  proportion  to  its 
load,  as  in  the  Saracenic  and  the  late  Komanesque, 
and  thirteenth  century  Gothic.  But  in  the  Egyp- 
tian, most  ponderous  of  all,  the  precaution  is  abso- 
lutely neglected,  or  rather  rejected,  as  if  in  com- 


6 


THE  LOTUS  COLUMN 


memoration  of  the  dainty  originals  of  their  mas- 
sive capitals.  The  architrave  is  ostentatiously 
lifted  clear  from  the  cap  by  a  square  block,  which 
takes  the  place  of  the  classic  abacus.  Instead  of 
expanding,  the  block  is  made  as  small  as  it  can 
reasonably  be  :  in  the  bell-cap  or  papyrus  capital, 
and  in  the  other  spreading  types,  it  is  no  wider 
than  the  top  of  the  shaft ;  in  the  lotiform  it  is  no 
larger  than  is  necessary  to  receive  the  top  of  the 
bud,  which  may  be  even  smaller  than  the  shaft. 
So  the  stern  Egyptian  builder,  who  would  not  ad- 
mit the  arch  among  the  elements  of  his  severely 
straight-lined  monuments,  and  hid  away  his  vaults 
in  the  interior  of  his  pyramids,  would  have  no  en- 
tangling alliance  between  decoration  and  construc- 
tion, but  uncompromisingly  insisted  on  his  great 
capitals  as  mere  ornaments. 

Lately,  M.  George  Foucart,  formerly  French  Cu- 
rator and  Inspector  of  Excavations  and  Museums 
in  Egypt,  has  published  a  very  careful  monograph 
on  the  lotiform  order,  using  as  his  point  de  repere 
M.  De  Morgan's  discovery,  in  1894,  of  the  column 
of  Abusir.  The  mastaba,  or  monumental  tomb  in 
which  this  column  was  found,  was  one  at  Abusir, 
near  Cairo,  hitherto  unexplored,  which,  by  its  in- 
scriptions, was  proved  to  be  that  of  a  certain  Phtah 
Shepses,  minister  of  public  works  under  Sahura, 
the  great  king  of  the  fifth  dynasty,  whose  pyramid 
adjoins  the  mastaba.    Among  the  reliefs,  broken 


LOTUS  COLUMNS 
I.  Abusir  2.  Bubastis 


TUE  LOTUS  COLUMN 


7 


statues,  and  other  decorations  that  were  found,  the 
most  interesting  and  significant  things  were  the 
remains  of  two  columns  which  had  carried  the  roof 
of  the  principal  chamber,  including  pieces  which, 
when  put  together,  made  a  practically  complete 
capital.  This  capital,  which  has  been  carefully 
restored  and  set  up  in  the  museum  at  Ghizeh,  is 
of  what  is  called  the  lotus-bud  type,  and,  fortu- 
nately the  contour,  the  delicate  carving,  and  even 
the  color,  have  been  preserved  almost  unhurt. 
The  importance  of  the  discovery  lies  in  the  fact, 
familiar  to  all  students  of  architectural  history, 
that  before  it  the  oldest  known  columns  in  Egypt, 
and  therefore,  presumably,  the  oldest  in  the  world, 
were  those  at  Beni  Hassan,  which  have  been  as- 
cribed to  the  twelfth  dynasty.  The  column  of 
Abusir,  taking  its  place  half  way  back  from  Beni 
Hassan  toward  the  beginning  of  Egyptian  archi- 
tecture, gives  a  new  point  of  adjustment,  and 
should  naturally  bring  us  considerably  nearer  to 
the  forms  we  find  in  the  pictured  monuments,  which 
we  may  assume  to  preserve  the  original  types. 

The  Abusir  column  has  for  its  base  the  flat, 
bevelled  disc  which  is  common  to  early  Egyptian 
columns,  and  has  even  been  found  at  Tiryns,  in 
Greece.  The  monolithic  shaft  is  straight-lined, 
slightly  tapering,  and  clustered  like  a  Gothic  pier, 
as  if  it  were  made  up,  that  is,  of  smaller  shafts 
bound  together,  iu  this  case  of  six.    The  cajDital, 


8 


THE  LOTUS  COLUMN 


likewise  sixfold,  is  made  of  partly  opened  lotus- 
buds.  The  stems  of  the  buds  continue  those  of 
the  shaft,  showing  for  a  moment  above  the  five- 
fold cincture  which  binds  the  whole  together.  Be- 
tween these  large  buds  and  round  their  bases  are 
ranged  as  many  little  buds,  looking  very  much  like 
brushes  in  a  house- painter's  belt,  their  hanging 
stems  tucked  into  the  cincture,  and  fitting  neatly 
in  the  grooves  between  the  reedings  or  colonettes 
of  the  shaft.  The  great  buds,  in  spite  of  their  rig- 
orously controlled  outline  and  slight  relief,  are 
very  delicately  carved,  and  follow  close  to  nature. 
The  end  of  the  stem  expanding  into  the  receptacle 
for  the  corolla,  the  parted  sepals  threaded  with  fine 
veins,  the  two  rings  of  alternating  petals,  all  are 
there,  rendered  with  delicate  relief  and  exquisite 
fineness  of  line,  and  carefully  distinguished  in  fiat 
colors  of  Egyptian  clearness,  not  too  naturalistic. 
The  smaller  buds  are  treated  with  the  same  care. 
Insignificant  as  they  look,  they  prove  in  the  his- 
torical analysis  to  be  the  clew  that  guides  us 
through  the  later  transformation  of  the  column. 
The  proportions  and  contours  of  the  column  are 
remarkably  fine.  The  student  of  Egyptian  art 
knows  well  the  subtlety  and  beauty  of  the  abstract 
lines  that  in  the  sculptures  look  queer  to  ordinary 
eyes.  They  are  fully  borne  out  here.  The  outline 
of  this  capital  is  in  marked  contrast  with  the 
straight  lines,  hooked  at  the  end,  which  we  see  in 


THE  LOTUS  COLUMN- 


9 


the  later  lotus  caps.  Its  beauty  and  elasticity  are 
not  less  than  those  of  the  echinus  of  the  Greek 
Doric  at  its  best. 

We  have  here  then  the  oldest  known  column  in 
the  world,  and  the  most  beautiful  of  its  own  type. 
There  must  have  been  a  long  period  of  experi- 
ment and  progress  before  work  of  this  quality  was 
evolved,  but  it  is  lost  to  us.  In  the  architecture 
of  Egypt,  as  in  her  sculpture  and  painting,  we  find 
the  earliest  that  we  can  discover  is  the  finest. 
The  period  of  immaturity  still  eludes  us :  as  far 
as  purity  of  type  is  concerned  the  ancient  empire 
seems  to  have  surpassed  its  successors.  In  mag- 
nificence and  grandeur  the  Theban  Empire  went 
far  beyond  it,  as  Koman  architecture  went  beyond 
Greek,  and  the  architecture  of  that  empire  will  re- 
main the  standard  of  what  is  most  impressive  in 
Egyptian  building ;  but  as  it  gained  in  grandeur 
it  lost  in  purity. 

The  next  example  in  chronological  order,  as  was 
implied  above,  is  the  column  of  Beni  Hassan, 
which  M.  Foucart,  by  reason  of  lately  examined 
inscriptions,  dates  from  the  eleventh  dynasty,  in- 
stead of  the  twelfth  as  has  been  the  custom.  This 
is  already  an  advance  of  some  haK  a  thousand 
years  from  Abusir,  during  which  the  seat  of 
empire  had  been  transferred  from  Memphis  to 
Thebes.  The  capital  has  lost  a  good  deal  of  its 
naturalism,  and  a  part  of  its  grace.    The  shaft, 


10 


THE  LOTUS  COLUMN 


still  monolithic,  and  the  capital  are  fourfold  in- 
stead of  sixfold ;  the  fine  shape  and  delicate  carv- 
ing of  the  leaves  are  gone  ;  and  they  are  replaced 
by  a  sort  of  formal  plaiting ;  the  little  buds  have 
dwindled  to  twigs  or  rods.  The  proportion  of  the 
cap  is  ruder,  its  outline  coarser ;  the  capital  has 
changed  from  a  delicate  piece  of  half  realistic 
sculpture  to  a  conventional  architectural  member. 

Next  come  certain  columns  lately  found  at  Bu- 
bastis,  the  best  capital  of  which  is  now  in  the 
Museum  of  Fine  Arts  at  Boston,  and  is  ascribed 
to  the  twelfth  dynasty.  They  are  monoliths  of 
red  granite,  a  material  which  is  characteristic  of 
that  dynasty.  Already  there  is  a  considerable  and 
significant  change  in  them  from  the  capitals  of 
Beni  Hassan.  Shaft  and  capital  are  now  eight- 
fold, but  the  lobes  of  the  cap,  while  they  retain 
in  the  main  their  old  contour,  have  lost  all  the 
lotus  form,  and  but  for  the  expansion  above  the 
cincture,  simply  continue  the  lines  of  the  shaft. 
The  colonnettes  or  reedings  of  the  shaft  are  no 
longer  simply  rounded,  but  cut  to  an  edge,  almost 
a  ridge,  so  that  the  section  of  the  whole  is  like 
the  plan  of  a  flower  with  eight  pointed  leaves. 
The  important  change,  however,  is  in  the  little 
buds  set  about  the  base  of  the  capital.  These 
have  grown  in  size  and  increased  to  groups  of 
three,  but  like  the  others  have  ceased  to  be  buds. 
They  are  compressed  into  the  grooves  and  flat- 


THE  LOTUS  COLUMN 


11 


tened  to  suit  tlie  round  sectional  outline  of  the 
column,  so  that  they  almost  usurp  the  circumfer- 
ence ;  and  they  are  bound  together  in  threes  by 
little  horizontal  bands,  which  mock  the  cincture 
beneath  them  after  a  fashion  that  is  common  in  all 
the  arts  of  design  of  echoing  in  the  smaller  mem- 
bers something  of  the  character  of  the  larger.  The 
column  is  stouter  than  that  of  Beni  Hassan  ;  it  is 
constricted  at  the  butt  like  a  tenpin,  in  a  way  that 
henceforth  becomes  characteristic. 

Here  is  the  lotus-type  ^  practically  reshaped.  It 
has  thrown  away  the  downright  imitation  of  the 
early  form,  and  with  it  has  lost  much  of  its  original 
grace.  At  the  same  time  it  has  departed  farther 
from  the  straightforward  idea  of  an  architectural 
support,  and  has  taken  on  an  unreal  and  irrational 
look  which  is  redeemed  only  by  its  massiveness. 
The  shape  which  it  took  under  Usirtasen  and 
Amenemhat  at  Bubastis  and  Hawara  it  seems  to 

'  It  is  to  be  noticed  that  the  column  which  is  here  called  the 
lotiform,  and  is  commonly  so  called,  has  been  thought  by  some 
scholars  to  be  modelled  not  on  the  lotus,  but  on  the  papyrus. 
Without  going  into  controversy  it  is  enough  to  say  here  that  the 
balance  of  proof  seems  to  incline  the  other  way.  It  was  the  lo- 
tus and  not  the  papyrus  that  was  the  sacred  emblem ;  it  is  clearly 
this  that  we  see  in  the  sculptures  of  the  temples  and  tombs,  of- 
fered to  the  gods  or  carried  in  the  hands  of  kings.  It  is  this 
that  is  tied  about  the  columns  in  the  pictured  MSS.  In  the  col- 
umn of  Abusir  the  naturalism  of  the  sculpture  distinctly  imitates 
the  buds  of  the  lotus,  and  the  conventionalized  capital  of  Beni 
Hassan  shows  them  almost  as  clearly. 


12 


THE  LOTUS  COLUMN' 


have  kept  unchanged  for  several  hundred  years. 
There  followed  one  of  the  periods  of  arrest  which 
from  time  to  time  interrupted  the  progress  of 
Egyptian  art,  and  which  have  tempted  writers  from 
Plato  down  to  proclaim  its  everlasting  fixity.  The 
Arab  invaders,  known  as  the  Hyksos  or  Shepherd 
Kings,  overran  Egypt  somewhat  as  the  northern 
races  afterward  overran  the  Roman  Empire,  and 
paralyzed  art,  especially  architecture,  for  centuries. 
When  at  last  the  native  rulers,  prevailing  again, 
came  down  from  upper  Egypt,  and  once  more  es- 
tablished themselves  at  Thebes  with  the  eighteenth 
dynasty,  apparently  they  took  up  architecture  just 
where  it  had  been  left  five  hundred  years  before, 
under  the  twelfth.  But  the  great  Pharaohs  of  the 
eighteenth,  nineteenth,  and  twentieth  dynasties 
were  far  more  powerful  and  wealthier  than  those 
of  the  earlier  dynasties  ;  they  built  with  a  magnifi- 
cence of  which  their  forerunners  had  not  dreamed. 
They  went  on  building  larger  and  larger  temples 
till  their  work  culminated  in  the  great  temple  at 
Karnak,  Avhose  famous  hypostyle  hall  surpasses  all 
other  architecture  in  scale. 

This  great  revival  of  building  naturally  led  to 
ch.anges  of  detail,  and  the  column  resumed  the 
course  of  its  development.  Its  changes,  as  one 
would  expect,  were  not  in  an  invariable  line  of 
progress,  as  if  to  a  preconceived  ideal ;  yet  a  gen- 
eral tendency  is  noticeable,  which  led  to  a  marked 


THE  LOTUS  COLUMN- 


13 


modification  of  type.  The  small  bucls,  as  we  may 
still  call  them,  tended  to  spread  till  they  almost 
met,  and  made  a  crown  about  the  base  of  the  capi- 
tal. Their  hanging  stems  enveloped  the  shaft  in 
a  sort  of  sheath,  the  clustering  of  the  shaft  became 
less  marked  ;  the  cinctures  were  in  some  cases  re- 
peated, and  the  grooves  became  shallower  till  the 
column  lost  its  corrugated  look,  and  first  the  shaft 
and  then  the  capital  grew  round  and  smooth ;  and 
at  last  the  whole  column,  as  we  see  it  at  Karnak  or 
Medinet  Abu,  looks  as  if  it  had  been  turned  in  a 
lathe  for  the  convenience  of  the  sculptor  who  was 
to  inscribe  it.  In  truth,  this  last  purpose  seems 
to  have  been  at  the  end  the  determining  one,  for 
the  Kamessides,  who  were  not  only  a  magnificent 
race,  but  an  ostentatious  one,  grew  into  the  habit 
of  inscribing  their  names,  titles,  and  performances 
on  every  smooth  surface  that  they  could  procure, 
and  perhaps  from  this,  or  perhaps  from  piety,  be- 
ginning with  the  lintels  and  abaci,  and  gradually 
appropriating  the  whole  surface  of  the  column, 
they  covered  it  with  their  cartouches,  their  em- 
blems, their  deities,  and  themselves.  This  is  prac- 
tically the  end  of  the  lotus-column.  The  smooth 
pillar  of  Karnak,  its  outline  unmodulated  except 
for  the  swelling  near  the  top,  its  surface  incrusted 
or  chased,  as  it  were,  with  a  multitude  of  flat  reliefs 
and  picked  out  from  top  to  bottom  with  bright 
colors,  is  still  a  stately  thing,  august  even,  in  its 


14 


THE  LOTUS  COLUMN 


enormous  size  and  serried  order  as  we  see  it  in  the 
great  liypostyle  lialls ;  but  we  should  not  know  it 
for  the  offspring  of  the  early  lotus  column  if  its 
pedigree  were  not  so  clear  that  we  cannot  mis- 
take it. 

It  was  displaced,  apparently,  from  its  old  pre- 
eminence. The  great  central  aisle  in  the  hypo- 
style  halls  that  were  now  added  to  the  temples, 
was  reserved  for  the  newer  bell  or  papyrus  column. 
The  lotus  column  was  remanded  to  the  side  aisles, 
and  the  tall  shafts  with  bell  capitals,  towering 
above  them,  carried  the  clerestory  that  brought  a 
dim  light  into  these  tremendous  halls.  I  have 
called  these  the  newer  columns,  because  none  of 
them  have  been  found  which  are  earlier  than  what 
is  named  the  New  Empire,  beginning  with  the 
nineteenth  dynasty.  This  should  be  said  Avith 
some  reserve  nevertheless,  for  all  the  temples 
which  are  older  than  this  dynasty  have  disajD- 
peared,  and  we  have  only  what  is  found  in  tombs. 
In  these  we  find  all  the  types  except  the  bell  col- 
umns— the  lotus,  the  proto-Doric,  the  palm  leaf, 
and  the  Hathor  column  or  pier.  It  is  possible 
tluit  if  we  found  older  temples  we  should  find  in 
them  the  bell  column,  and  M.  Foucart  reminds  us 
that  we  may  still  discover  them  ;  but  the  evidence 
thus  far  is  that  all  the  others  are  older. 

With  these  changes  of  form  went  necessarily 
great  changes  of  construction  and  workmanship, 


THE  LOTUS  COLUMN 


15 


and  even  of  material.  The  buildings  of  the  early 
empire  had  been  either  quarried  from  the  lime- 
stone hills  that  line  the  Nile  from  Cairo  to  Edfu, 
or  excavated  in  them.  Their  columns  are  mono- 
liths of  this  stone,  which  allowed  of  free  and  deli- 
cate carving,  as  we  see  in  this  new  example  from 
Abusir,  and  in  the  column  of  Beni  Hassan.  The 
builders  of  the  twelfth  dynasty,  more  ambitious 
than  their  predecessors,  and  authors  of  almost  all 
the  structures  of  the  middle  empire  which  we  know, 
brought  the  red  granite  of  Syene  at  the  first  cata- 
ract for  their  columns.  Those  of  Bubastis  and 
Hawara  are  examples.  They  wrought  them  and 
their  sculptures  in  the  same  obdurate  material  with 
the  decision  and  cleanness  of  handling  which  we 
all  know,  although  with  the  sacrifice  of  some  of 
the  delicate  detail  of  the  earlier  work.  Up  to  this 
time  nothing  less  than  a  monolith  seems  to  have 
been  thought  worthy  to  stand  as  a  column  ;  but  if 
the  Usirtasens  and  Amenemhats  of  the  twelfth  dy- 
nasty could  do  their  modest  building  in  this  way, 
the  Eamessides,  who  bordered  the  river  from  the 
first  cataract  to  the  Delta  with  their  huge  con- 
structions, could  not  follow  it.  Shafts  of  columns 
from  sixteen  to  twenty  feet  high  for  a  few  build- 
ings of  moderate  size  could  be  brought  down  to  the 
Fayum  or  the  Delta ;  but  when  it  came  to  columns 
forty  or  fifty  feet  high,  or  even  sixty  and  seventy, 
and  in  groves,  as  we  see  them  at  Luxor  or  Karnak, 


16 


THE  LOTUS  COLUMN 


this  method  was  impracticable.  The  Pharaohs  of 
the  eighteenth,  nineteenth,  and  twentieth  dynas- 
ties used  the  sandstone  of  the  quarries  above  Edfu. 
Its  facility  in  cutting  and  handling  suited  the  scale 
of  their  buildings  and  the  speed  with  which  they 
could  carry  them  on.  They  laid  their  shafts  in 
drums  or  slices,  or,  as  the  columns  grew  larger, 
they  built  them  up  in  coursed  masonry.  This  they 
covered  with  stucco,  to  dissemble  the  joints,  and 
give  them  a  fair  surface  for  sculpture  and  paint- 
ing. So  were  built  the  great  pillars  of  the  temples 
that  stand  on  the  plain  of  Thebes,  at  Karnak,  Me- 
dinet  Abu,  at  Kurnah  (called  by  the  French  Gour- 
neh),  at  Luxor,  and  even  the  earlier  work  of  Seti 
I.  at  Abydos.  The  huge  central  columns  of  the 
hypostyle  hall  at  Karnak,  seventy  feet  high  and 
twelve  thick — on  the  tops  of  whose  bell  capitals  a 
hundred  men  might  sit,  we  are  told — are  towers, 
and  had  to  be  built  as  towers  are  built.  It  is 
strange  to  think  of  the  Jerry-builder  in  Egypt; 
but  there  is  nothing  new,  and  some  of  these  won- 
derful columns  are  merely  shells  of  roughly  coursed 
masonry  filled  in  with  a  cheap  concrete  of  stones 
and  lime.  We  read  of  some  whose  filling  was 
found  to  be  a  soft  mortar  that  crumbled  at  the 
touch  into  yellow  powder.  This  is  explanation 
enough  why  we  may  see  these  massive  monuments, 
built  for  eternity  in  a  climate  where  the  great  de- 
stroyers, frost  and  rain,  cannot  reach  them,  crum- 


THE  LOTUS  COLUMN 


17 


bling  and  sagging  into  decrepitude,  even  where  the 
hand  of  man  has  not  been  heavy  on  them.  The 
Ramessides  were  wonderful  builders,  with  an  in- 
stinct for  grandeur  that  has  not  been  equalled. 
They  trusted  in  plaster,  and  it  has  at  last  betrayed 
them ;  the  wonder  is  that  the  gnawing  sand  of  the 
desert  and  mere  daily  changes  of  temperature  have 
not  sooner  destroyed  it,  and  that  so  much  of  the 
sculptured  record  which  was  committed  to  it  still 
survives. 

The  lotus  order  ended  its  development  on  the 
Tlieban  plain.  If  not  precisely  the  latest  in  date, 
the  columns  of  the  hypostyle  hall  at  Karnak  show 
its  final  outcome,  the  last  term  of  its  logical  prog- 
ress. There  remains  only  a  stout  well-propor- 
tioned spindle,  covered  by  a  square  block,  and 
supporting  a  squared  architrave.  Simplicity  of 
form  could  hardly  go  farther,  and  grandeur  of  ex- 
ecution has  never  again  gone  so  far.  After  the 
Eamessides  the  great  building  days  of  Egypt  were 
over.  There  were  moments  of  some  activity,  as 
under  the  Nectanebos,  when  there  was  an  attempt 
to  copy  the  old  forms.  Under  the  Ptolemies  there 
was  a  considerable  revival ;  then  and  under  the 
E-oman  rule  a  sort  of  composite  of  the  early  types 
was  evolved,  on  a  smaller  scale,  which  delights  the 
eyes  of  travellers  in  the  picturesque  temples  of 
Edfu,  Denderali  and  Pliylae.  But  the  splendid 
career  of  the  ancient  Egyptians  had  come  to  its 


IS 


THE  LOTUS  COLUMN 


end.  The  rule  of  their  land  was  gone  from  their 
hands  forever.  The  Kamessides,  greater  than  all 
their  predecessors,  were  the  last  of  their  nation. 
Their  architecture,  too,  had  run  its  career.  It  had 
gone  through  a  series  of  magnificent  transforma- 
tions, had  had  its  full  development,  and  was  ready 
for  its  decline.  To  our  unprophetic  eyes  it  had 
finished  the  cycle  of  its  development,  and  there 
was  no  new  progress  left  for  it.  In  all  this  there 
is  no  sign  of  that  immobility  which  it  has  been  a 
fashion  to  attribute  to  Egypt  and  her  art.  It  is 
the  usual  human  history  of  progress  and  arrest, 
progress  again,  exaltation,  and  downfall.  It  has  a 
strange  sound  to  a  modern  ear  when  M.  Foucart 
talks  of  the  "feverish  impulse "  given  to  build- 
ing under  Seti  and  Rameses  the  Great ;  but  though 
the  pace  of  the  Nile-boat  and  the  chariot  is  not 
the  pace  of  the  railway  and  the  telegraph,  man  is 
always  man,  energy  is  energy,  and  progress  is  prog- 
ress. It  is  not  in  the  nature  of  man,  and  never 
was,  to  stand  still.  The  Egyptians  were  entirely 
human,  and  immutability  is  superhuman. 


> 

■  I 

I  G 


(A  xi 


GK^CO-KOMAN  AKCHITECTURE 


Greek  architecture  and  Roman  architecture  are 
commonly  spoken  of  as  two  distinct  styles,  yet 
they  are  really  but  stages  in  the  continuous  evolu- 
tion of  one  architecture  under  progressive  modifi- 
cation, and  bear  much  the  same  relation  to  each 
other  in  art  that  Saxon  and  English  bear  in  lan- 
guage. The  Greek  is  the  main  stock ;  the  influ- 
ence of  the  conquering  Romans  added  new  mate- 
rial and  developed  new  shapes  without  destroying 
the  underlying  Greek  type;  so  the  conquering 
Normans  imported  into  the  Saxon  language  their 
Norman  French  and  Gallicized  Latin,  which  in 
the  end  transformed  it  into  English,  while  the  sub- 
stance of  the  language,  like  the  mass  of  the  people, 
kept  its  national  character.  Yet,  the  usual  nam- 
ing of  the  styles  has  its  convenience,  and  is  too 
well  rooted  to  be  displaced,  though  it  represents 
the  facts  better  to  speak  of  a  single  style,  the  Clas- 
sic, more  significantly  the  Grseco-Roman,  of  which 

19 


20 


ORJSCO-ROMAN  ARCHITECTURE 


the  Greek  and  the  Roman  are  two  distinct  branches 
or  phases. 

Greek  building  in  comparison  with  other  great 
architectures  of  the  world  was  small  in  scale  and 
simple.  It  was  entirely  a  public  architecture  ;  its 
domestic  building  amounted  to  very  little.  The 
towns  were  small,  gathered  for  security  within  a 
circuit  of  close  walls,  in  tangles  of  close  streets 
more  cramped  than  the  most  secluded  towns  of 
Italy  or  Switzerland  at  this  day ;  in  which  small, 
low  houses  were  huddled  together.  Even  in  the 
larger  cities,  where  the  houses  gradually  over- 
flowed the  fortified  citadels  and  accumulated  in 
open  suburbs,  they  crowded  together  in  streets  so 
narrow  that  in  Athens,  we  are  told,  in  the  time  of 
the  Pisistratidae,  Hipparchus  laid  a  tax  on  over- 
hanging stories,  and  doors  that  obstructed  the  way 
by  opening  into  it.  In  Rome  also,  under  the 
Empire,  the  case  was  hardly  better;  for  modern 
excavations  show  that  on  the  Palatine  itself  the 
streets  that  isolated  the  imperial  palaces  were  like 
the  narrowest  lanes  that  we  see  in  the  old  quarters 
of  Genoa  and  Yenice  to-day,  and  we  read  that  the 
high  houses  overhung  in  story  after  story,  till  the 
uppermost  stories  joined,  and  the  ways  below 
were  left  in  darkness.  The  life  of  the  Greeks  was 
in  the  market-places  and  public  buildings,  pre-em- 
inently a  town  life,  for  they  were,  if  I  may  dare 
say  it,  a  race  of  martial  cockneys,  and  a  mercan- 


GRzECO-ROMAN  ARCHITECTURE 


21 


tile  race,  in  this  a  good  deal  unlike  the  Eomans. 
Their  houses  were  for  the  most  part  only  places 
to  eat  and  sleep  in,  with  a  little  yard  or  garden 
where  their  women  took  exercise  or  recreation, 
when  they  could  afford  room  for  it.  It  was  not 
till  their  architecture  was  fixed  and  the  decline  of 
the  ancient  cities  had  begun  that  Demosthenes 
found  reason  to  complain  that  private  houses  were 
getting  too  large  and  public  buildings  too  small. 
The  primitive  Greek  life  was  a  life  of  religion  and 
warfare ;  religious  traditions  shaped  their  archi- 
tecture by  making  the  temples,  which  served 
equally  for  the  service  of  the  gods  and  the  com- 
memoration of  victories,  as  dominant  and  repre- 
sentative as  were  the  churches  in  the  Middle  Ages. 
About  them  gradually  clustered  the  few  and  sim- 
ple buildings  that  served  the  public. 


II 

All  building  naturally  divides  into  two  classes, 
the  architecture  of  the  beam  and  that  of  the  arch, 
which  have  been  called  trabeated  and  arcuated — 
according  to  the  means  which  it  uses  for  covering 
openings  and  spaces — the  first  being  that  which 
covers  them  by  beams  or  lintels,  the  second  that 
which  uses  arches.  The  logical  development  of 
the  two  classes  leads  in  the  one  to  flat  ceilings  and 
straight  roofs,  in  the  other  to  vaults  and  domes. 


22 


OR  ^CO-ROMAN  ARCHITECTURE 


Classic  architecture  stands  beside  Egyptian  as  the 
great  representative  of  the  trabeated,  using  the 
constructive  principle  of  the  beam  in  the  Greek 
unreservedly,  under  the  Eomans  ostensibly,  and 
deriving  its  main  forms  from  it.  This  principle 
of  construction  forces  on  it  the  predominance  of 
straight  lines,  especially  horizontal  lines,  and  of 
right  angles,  which  give  to  all  such  architecture 
its  most  distinctive  character,  the  square  and  hor- 
izontal aspect  that  marks  Greek  and  Egyptian 
buildings.  When,  as  in  many  of  those  buildings, 
built  for  warm  or  mild  climates,  the  walls  are  sup- 
pressed or  subordinated,  leaving  an  architecture 
of  Avhich  the  roof-lines  are  predominant,  the  hor- 
izontal lines  and  the  squareness  are  specially 
characteristic.  In  both  Greece  and  Egypt  the 
wall,  which  elsewhere  is  the  chief  part  of  a  build- 
ing, was  apt  to  be  subordinate,  and  sometimes 
hardly  entered  into  the  effect  at  all. 

The  underlying  Greek  form  is  the  Order ;  that 
is,  a  primary  unit  of  composition,  consisting  of 
two  parts,  the  column  and  the  entablature,  which 
are  the  supporting  member  and  its  load.  These 
parts  Avere  gradually  evolved  and  shaped  by  the 
Greeks  into  fixed  canonical  forms,  of  which  there 
were  two,  closely  related,  making  the  Doric  and 
Ionic  orders.  The  upper  part  of  the  Order,  the 
entablature,  whether  Doric  or  Ionic,  consisted  of 
the  architrave,  which  spanned  from  column  to 


GR^CO-ROMAN  ARCHITECTURE 


23 


column  ;  the  frieze,  a  band  of  wall,  plain  or  deco- 
rated, borne  by  the  architrave ;  and  the  cornice, 
an  overhanging  slab,  supported  by  mouldings  or 
brackets,  which  crowned  the  frieze,  and  usually 
united  it  with  a  roof.  The  Order,  thus  consti- 
tuted, was  the  direct  embodiment,  with  much 
elaboration,  of  the  simplest  idea  of  building  con- 
struction next  to  a  mere  walled  hut,  the  idea  of  a 
beam  or  post  supporting  a  roof.  It  was  and  re- 
mained the  essential  thing  in  Greek  architecture, 
and  continued  through  the  classical  period  the 
typical  form  for  all  building  that  was  meant  to  be 
monumental. 

The  archetype  of  all  Greek  buildings  was  the 
temple ;  its  underlying  form  was  almost  the  sim- 
plest that  could  be  devised.  The  saddle  roof,  set 
on  the  stone  hut  which  was  the  original  temple, 
with  gables  apparently  at  first  open,  and  over- 
hanging eaves  at  the  sides,  remained  to  the  last. 
The  columns,  probably  first  added  at  the  ends  and 
afterward  at  the  sides,  completed  the  type  for  all 
time.  The  gables  were  in  time  made  into  pedi- 
ments, that  is,  were  tied  across  the  feet  with  hor- 
izontal cornices ;  the  number  of  columns  was 
varied ;  their  details  and  those  of  the  entabla- 
ture were  shaped,  refined,  adjusted,  and  readjusted 
to  the  last  perfection  of  artistic  effect;  but  the 
type  and  the  shape  did  not  change  during  five 
hundred  years  while  the  Greeks  went  on  building 


24  orjEco-homan  architecture 

their  temples.  The  oldest  temple  at  Selinus  and 
the  Parthenon  at  Athens  were  perhaps  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  years  apart,  and  the  builders  of  one 
had  probably  never  seen  the  other,  yet  they  do  not 
differ  so  much  in  their  ordinance  as  the  American 
carpenter's  country  church  differs  from  the  city 
original  which  he  fancies  he  is  faithfully  copying. 
But  having  only  one  form  of  building,  and  that  a 
consecrated  one,  and  having  but  a  single  type  be- 
fore their  eyes,  they  concentrated  their  thoughts 
upon  the  evolution  of  their  temple,  elaborating 
and  refining  their  one  type  from  generation  to 
generation.  They  had  nothing  of  the  modern  de- 
sire to  exchange  an  old  idea  for  a  new  one  before 
it  was  perfected.  The  new  did  not  crowd  out  the 
old — blessed  privilege  of  primitive  peoples,  who 
hold  to  an  idea  till  they  have  got  all  there  is  in  it. 
To  an  American  who  may  have  seen  four  or  five 
styles  adopted  and  dismissed  in  succession,  as 
fashion  after  fashion  has  spread  over  his  country, 
and  innumerable  forms  of  buildings  devised  in 
each,  the  fidelity  with  which  the  Greeks  clung  to 
their  type  may  seem  impossible.  They  sacrificed 
original  invention,  consciously  or  not,  which  we 
value  above  everything  else ;  but  in  exchange  for  it 
they  secured  perfection,  for  which  we  unfortunate- 
ly do  not  care.  They  wrought  and  rewrought,  re- 
fined and  developed  on  one  line,  till  by  persistence 
and  cumulative  study  they  had  brought  the  em- 


GRJECO-ROMAN  ARCHITECTURE  35 

bocliment  of  their  idea  nearer  to  absolute  per- 
fection than  any  other  people  ever  reached. 
Hence  comes  the  striking  contrast  between  the 
naive  simplicity  of  the  conceptions  on  which 
Greek  architecture  is  built  and  the  mature  perfec- 
tion of  their  carrying  out.  Their  constructive 
scheme  was  of  the  simplest ;  the  ideas  that  under- 
lie the  design  of  the  Doric  entablature  and  the 
Ionic  capital  are  small  even  to  triviality — puerile 
we  may  fairly  call  them — yet  their  final  expression 
in  the  Parthenon  and  the  Erectheum  embodies  a 
mastery  of  architectural  effect  and  a  fineness  of 
artistic  sense  that  are  the  highest  example  to  all 
ages. 

Thus  the  temple  furnished  to  the  Greeks,  and 
consecrated  for  them,  the  few  elements  which 
sufficed  for  their  architectural  needs — the  plain 
pitched  roof  with  pedimental  ends,  the  order,  and 
the  colonnade.  The  scale  of  their  buildings,  as  I 
have  said,  was  small ;  not  only  their  typical  form, 
but  their  composition,  was  simple.  They  did  not 
build  for  large  assemblies  or  for  complicated  uses. 
Their  temples  held  a  shrine  and  a  statue,  some- 
times a  treasure-room ;  the  multitude  was  not  re- 
ceived into  them,  and  the  public  rites  were  per- 
formed outside.  Their  great  gatherings  were  held 
out  of  doors,  in  the  agoras,  or  in  unroofed  theatres 
which,  being  sunk  in  the  ground  and  without 
walls,  are  hardly  to  be  called  buildings.  The 


26 


OR  ^CO-ROMAN  ARCHITECTURE 


slielter  which  was  provided  for  considerable  num- 
bers of  persons  was  in  long,  narrow  aisles,  as  in 
the  stoae,  which  were  galleries  lined  and  divided 
bj  colonnades,  bordering  agoras,  as  in  Elis,  or 
connecting  other  buildings,  as  on  the  southern 
slope  of  the  Acropolis  at  Athens  and  at  Olympia. 
The  few  really  large  temples,  like  those  of  Miletus 
and  Ephesus,  were  enlarged  by  doubling  the  rows 
of  columns  without  greatly  widening  the  enclosed 
space  of  the  cella,  and  these  were  exceptional. 
The  size  of  the  temple  was  increased  by  increas- 
ing the  scale  of  the  order,  whose  proportions  were 
the  same  on  a  great  scale  as  on  a  small ;  the 
smaller  was  as  the  photographic  reduction  of  the 
larger.  The  Greeks  rarely  attempted  to  roof  a 
space  of  more  than  thirty  feet.  Even  the  great 
temple  at  Agrigentum,  colossal  and  never  finished, 
being  divided  into  aisles,  called  for  no  wider  span 
than  forty  feet.  The  Order  was,  indeed,  the  whole 
substance  of  their  architecture,  enlarged  or  dimin- 
ished to  the  necessary  dimensions  without  there- 
by changing  proportion  or  detail.  The  aim  of  the 
builders  was  always  monumental,  and  to  their 
eyes  the  simplicity  of  the  single  order  seems  to 
have  been  essential  to  monumental  effect.  They 
avoided  putting  one  over  another,  as  became  com- 
mon under  the  Eomans,  and  preserving  the  grand 
lines  of  the  single  order,  they  made  their  build- 
ings, exteriorly  at  least,  in  one  story,  whatever 


QR^CO-nOMAN  ARCHITECTURE  27 

their  scale.  The  order  covered  the  whole  build- 
ing, with  nothing  above  it  but  the  pediment  or  the 
roof,  and  nothing  beneath  but  a  platform,  or  at 
most  a  low  stjlobate  or  basement  wall.  It  stood 
alone  in  kingly  isolation,  in  long  porticos  or  colon- 
nades, usually  without  a  break,  and  occupying  the 
whole  height  of  wall.  It  held  a  royal  dominion 
and  royal  inviolability. 

A  system  of  architecture  so  restricted  and  formal 
did  not  provide  for  many  combinations,  and  neces- 
sarily lacked  flexibility.  Two  orders  of  different 
scales  would  not  match  in  any  part,  and  when 
buildings  or  parts  of  buildings  were  combined  it 
was  rather  by  juxtaposition  than  by  adaptation. 
The  ceilings  of  the  porticos  of  a  Doric  temple — of 
the  Parthenon,  for  instance — will  show  how,  while 
the  adjustment  of  each  part  in  itself  is  exquisitely 
managed,  the  cella  and  the  two  orders  of  columns 
(the  porticos)  are  jammed  together,  as  it  were, 
without  interadjustment.  The  contumacy  of  the 
orders  in  combination  appears  still  more  strik- 
ingly in  the  Erectheum,  where  the  united  struct- 
ures, though  picturesquely  proportioned  to  each 
other,  do  not  fit  together  anywhere  above  the  base 
moulding.  Their  construction  tended,  moreover, 
to  restrict  the  size  of  Greek  building,  for  their 
whole  proportion  being  fixed,  their  height  could 
not  be  increased  without  increasing  the  intervals 
of  the  columns.    This  could  not  be  done  beyond 


28  OR^CO-ROMAN  ARCHITECTURE 

a  moderate  degree  without  an  enormous  cost 
suited  only  to  an  Egyptian  Pharaoh  or  a  Koman 
emperor,  and  soon  reached  the  limit  of  impossi- 
bility. On  the  other  hand,  the  very  narrowness 
and  uniformity  of  the  means  which  were  em- 
ployed, the  consistency  with  which  they  were  ad- 
hered to,  is  a  controlling  element  in  the  singular 
charm  of  harmony  which  belongs  to  them.  Greek 
architecture  is,  indeed,  the  architecture  of  the 
beam  in  its  most  characteristic  form ;  the  Greek 
Order  is  its  highest  phase.  The  consistent  use  of 
the  lintel  and  the  banishment  of  conspicuous 
curves  gave  it  the  preponderance  of  horizontal 
lines  and  right  angles  which  secured  simplicity 
and  breadth  of  effect.  These,  with  the  contrast 
of  the  upright  lines  of  the  columns,  which  are  the 
most  characteristic  parts  of  the  order,  insure  the 
firmness,  repose,  and  stateliness  that  distinguish 
it  above  all  others ;  the  symmetrical  arrangement 
of  parts  which  belonged  to  it  added  to  its  dignity 
and  tranquillity.  The  exquisite  refining  of  its  pro- 
portions, in  which  solidity  and  vigor  were  never 
lost,  and  the  charm  of  its  beautiful  detail,  were 
the  crowning  grace  which  made  it  unapproach- 
able. 

Trabeated  architecture  was  distinctively  the 
religious  architecture  of  antiquity.  The  colon- 
nade was  the  feature  that  redeemed  it  from  heavi- 
ness, and  that  gave  it  interest.    The  column  is, 


GRJECO-ROMAN  ARCIITTECTURE 


29 


indeed,  the  natural  support  of  the  beam,  for  it  is 
only  a  beam  set  on  end.  The  lintel  and  the  colon- 
nade were  the  architectural  stock  of  the  religious 
nations,  the  Egyptians,  the  Greeks,  even  the  He- 
brews, so  far  as  we  can  judge,  where  they  had  an 
architecture — all  but  the  Chaldeans,  who  had  no 
stone  to  build  them  with.  It  is  not  easy  to  de- 
cide, nor  need  we,  which  of  the  two  systems,  that 
of  the  beam  or  that  of  the  arch,  lends  itself  most 
to  great  architectural  effects.  But  for  some  rea- 
son or  other  a  column,  if  it  be  large  enough, 
carries  a  greater  impression  of  stateliness  than 
any  other  architectural  form.  This  may  be  due  to 
its  uprightness  and  its  isolation,  which  give  it  an  air 
of  immovable  supremacy,  like  that  of  a  tall  man 
towering  above  a  crowd.  At  any  rate,  I  suspect 
that  the  most  majestic  architecture  that  has  ever 
been  built,  making  due  allowance  for  mere  scale, 
has  been  columnar. 


Ill 

The  second  branch  or  phase  of  classic  architect- 
ure is  called  Roman,  and  a  great  deal  has  been 
written  about  it  under  that  name;  yet,  as  one 
studies  the  matter,  the  question  forces  itself  for- 
ward: Was  there  a  Eoman  architecture?  It  de- 
pends on  how  we  use  the  word  Eoman.  The  archi- 
tectures of  the  world  have  for  the  most  part  been 


30 


GRyECO-ROMAN  ARCHITECTURE 


distinguished  by  ethnical  names — Assyrian,  Egyp- 
tian, Greek,  Gothic,  Saracenic,  Indian,  and  so  on — 
and  I  believe  that  when  we  speak  of  Roman  archi- 
tecture we  instinctively  think  of  it  as  the  creation 
of  that  race  of  Romans  to  whom  we  ascribe  the 
great  deeds  of  early  Roman  history,  of  the  race 
which  built  up  Rome.  The  Roman  people,  let  us 
remember,  was  probably  mixed  from  its  earliest 
days,  and  in  later  times  reinforced  by  those  of  in- 
numerable conquered  states,  so  that  Paul,  a  Jew 
born  in  Tarsus,  could  discomfit  his  captors  by  de- 
claring himself  a  Roman,  and  appealing  to  Caesar 
must  be  taken  to  Rome  to  be  tried.  But  the 
Romans  who  made  Rome  appear  like  one  race 
compounded  of  allied  clans,  of  a  persistent  type 
such  as  points  to  a  common  origin  and  a  peculiar 
strongly  marked  character,  by  virtue  of  which  they 
conquered  the  world,  created  an  empire  and  ruled 
it,  though  themselves  but  a  handful  among  those 
whom  they  took  into  their  people.  The  question 
then  resolves  itself  into  this  :  Did  the  Romans  who 
created  the  empire  create  the  architecture  which 
we  call  Roman  ?    I  suspect  not. 

The  real  Romans  as  we  see  them  in  history  were, 
it  seems  to  me,  singularly  like  the  English  of  the 
nineteenth  century.  Masterful  in  their  waj^s,  con- 
fident in  their  power  and  natural  right  to  rule  the 
world,  they  were  a  vigorous,  hard-headed,  practi- 
cal people,  with  a  great  gift  for  administration  and 


Glt^CO-nOMAN  ARCHITECTURE  31 


great  political  sagacity.  As  they  succeeded  they 
grew  grasping,  as  is  the  natural  way  of  such 
people,  and  when  they  grew  rich  they  grew  osten- 
tatious and  vain-glorious.  By  the  time  they  had 
conquered  Greece,  they  had  become  sufficiently 
luxurious  to  covet  art  as  the  nouveau  riclie  of  to- 
day covets  it ;  all  through  the  second  century  be- 
fore Christ  the  portable  works  of  art  in  Greece 
were  gathered  into  Kome,  as  Napoleon  brought  his 
plunder  of  pictures  and  statues  from  Italy,  and  ap- 
parently from  the  same  motives.  They  pursued 
art  because  it  tended  to  magnificence,  and  litera- 
ture because  they  thought  it  due  to  themselves. 
But  they  were  too  practical  to  become  artistic  or 
literary,  too  gifted  for  command  to  do  any  work 
but  that  of  governing.  For  the  historian  and  poet 
the  Roman  of  position  had  more  regard  than  for 
the  artist,  because  he  saw  in  his  works  his  own 
title  to  fame.  A  like  feeling  perhaps,  led  him  to 
prefer  the  sculptor  before  the  architect,  for  his  ap- 
petite for  busts  and  portrait-statues  was  enormous 
— the  sculptor  too  could  immortalize  him  in  a  way — 
and  his  house  had  a  chamber  full  of  the  effigies  of 
"his  forefathers,  to  which  his  own  was  to  be  added. 
But  his  attitude  toward  the  artist  was  apparently 
that  of  the  English  nobleman  of  the  last  century ; 
he  scorned  while  he  patronized.  He  would  give  his 
own  energy  to  ruling  others,  wisely  and  uprightly 
if  he  were  honorable,  tyrannically  if  he  were  ra- 


33 


ORjECO-ROMAN  ai^chitecture 


pacious.  The  Roman  of  lower  degree  would  not 
do  the  work  which  his  patron  despised ;  he  had 
as  little  aptitude  for  art,  and  if  he  could  not  govern 
he  would  live  in  idleness.  So  the  artists  of  Eome 
as  well  as  the  artisans  seem  to  have  been  practi- 
cally all  conquered  foreigners,  which  means  slaves, 
or  freedmen,  or  their  children.  Yirgil's  well  known 
lines  tell  the  Roman  attitude : 

Excudant  aUi  spirantia  mollius  aera — 

Tu  regere  imperio  populos,  Komane,  memento. 

Cicero,  attacking  Yerres  for  his  extortions  in 
Sicily,  seems  to  feel  hardly  more  respect  for  his 
connoisseurship  than  for  his  moral  character,  and 
speaking  of  a  Cupid  by  Praxiteles,  confesses  loftily, 
almost  apologetically,  that  since  he  has  been  in- 
quiring into  that  man's  conduct,  he  has  learned 
the  names  of  the  "workmen."  And  Plutarch  who, 
though  a  Greek,  and  living  in  the  age  of  the  An- 
tonines,  when  the  arts  were  under  the  special  care 
of  the  emperors,  was  a  Roman  in  temper,  says  : 
*'  No  generous-minded  young  man  ever  wished,  at 
the  sight  of  the  statue  of  Jupiter  at  Pisa,  to  be  a 
Phidias." 

It  need  not  surprise  us,  then,  that  even  under  the 
empire,  when  the  Avealthy  patricians,  shut  out  from 
active  public  life,  were  degenerating  into  profli- 
gate dilettanti,  though  the  work  of  art  was  prized 


OR^CO-ROMAN  ARCHITECTURE  33 

the  artist  was  of  little  account.  Connoisseursbip 
was  then,  what  it  has  been  in  all  ages,  the  minis- 
ter of  ostentation,  the  amusement  of  idleness ;  and 
though  the  name  of  the  slave  or  freedman  or  the 
conquered  subject  who  had  carved  a  statue  or  de- 
signed a  building  was  preserved  as  a  label,  appar- 
ently no  one  concerned  himself  much  about  his 
personality,  and  no  writer  recorded  more  than  his 
name,  unless  to  point  some  anecdote,  as  in  case  of 
ApoUodorus,  and  that  criticism  of  the  amateur 
architect  Hadrian  which  cost  him  his  life.  It  had 
been  the  conquered  Etruscans  who  in  the  earlier 
days  of  the  republic  provided  the  arts  for  the  Ro- 
mans ;  they  were  in  its  later  days  replaced  by  the 
conquered  Greeks.  Under  the  Empire  the  work- 
shops of  Eome  were  full  of  imported  workmen 
and  artists,  of  whom  most  were  Greeks,  and  as  Re- 
ber  says,  from  Caesar's  time  to  Hadrian's  Greek  art 
seems  to  have  migrated  into  Italy. 

Thus  it  was  in  Rome ;  away  from  Rome  and 
in  their  native  countries  it  is  likely  that  artists 
had  more  of  the  consideration  which  provincials 
secure  most  easily  at  home.  Indeed,  although 
Rome  was  the  richest  and  most  splendid  city  in 
the  world,  it  is  not  clear  that  she  was  the  home  of 
the  best  architects,  or  even  of  the  best  architect- 
ure. It  is  likely  that  the  innovations  and  advances 
which  developed  fast  in  the  first  and  second  cen- 
turies after  Christ,  were  made  in  the  provinces  as 


34  OR^CO-ROMAN  ARCHITECTURE 

well  as  in  Rome  itself,  perhaps  as  fast.  Certain 
it  is  that  the  remains  of  building  show  better 
art  and  a  finer  detail  in  those  cities  where  Greek 
workmen  were  less  trammelled  by  Roman  influ- 
ence than  in  the  metropolis — at  Pompeii  and  Cori 
in  Italy,  in  many  cities  of  Syria,  for  instance.  In 
spite  of  the  influence  of  Roman  connoisseurship, 
art  does  not  seem  to  have  been  as  metropolitan  as 
it  is  in  our  time.  Apollodorus,  just  mentioned, 
who  was  Trajan's  architect  and  built  his  column, 
his  bridge  over  the  Danube,  and  many  buildings, 
came  from  Damascus.  Trajan  himself,  in  one  of 
his  letters  to  Pliny,  concerning  public  building 
which  Pliny  has  undertaken  to  do  in  his  province 
of  Bithynia,  tells  him  not  to  send  to  Rome  for 
architects,  for  the  Romans  get  theirs  from  Greece. 
Later,  at  Constantinople,  w^here  there  was  more 
centralization  even  than  there  had  been  at  Rome, 
Justinian  got-  the  two  architects  who  built  Sta. 
Sofia  for  him,  the  one  from  Miletus,  the  other  from 
Tralles.  Doubtless  the  men  of  Rome  themselves 
were  responsible  in  great  degree  for  the  rapid 
transformation  of  architecture  under  their  empire. 
They  probably  influenced  it  as  American  men  of 
business  in  our  time  influence  the  new  architecture 
of  our  cities.  They  were  the  clients,  exacting  and 
despotic  clients,  we  may  be  sure ;  their  demand 
must  have  called  out  the  supply,  and  determined 
its  character.    But  what  we  call  Roman  architect- 


ORuECO-ROMAN  ARCHITECTURE  35 


ure  was  the  architecture  of  the  world  at  that  time, 
evolved  through  simultaneous  labor  all  over  the 
civilized  world,  then  under  control  of  the  Eoman 
empire,  with  local  differences,  but  yet  with  more 
unity  of  style  than  was  seen  in  the  world's  build- 
ing at  any  other  epoch — more  than  in  the  Gothic, 
the  Eenaissance,  or  the  building  of  to-day.  It  was 
stimulated  and  in  a  way  governed  by  the  Romans, 
as  they  governed  the  world,  but  its  forms  and 
style,  so  far  as  we  can  see,  were  determined  by  the 
same  spirit  and  invention  which  had  formed  classic 
architecture  in  the  beginning  and  had  delivered  it 
to  the  Romans,  the  spirit  and  invention  of  the 
Greeks.  The  Romans  had  what  they  wanted. 
They  impressed  their  character  on  the  architect- 
ure, expressed  their  wants  and  their  tastes  in  it, 
gave  it  sumptuousness,  ostentation,  scale,  com- 
plexity, new  shapes  of  building  suited  to  new  uses ; 
but  the  Greeks,  it  would  seem,  still  found  form  for 
it.  Nevertheless,  we  need  a  name  for  this  archi- 
tecture. It  is  the  architecture  of  the  Empire  and  it 
is  convenient  still  to  call  it  Roman  Architecture, 
but  remembering  that  it  is  the  architecture  of  the 
Roman  Empire  and  not  of  the  Roman  race. 


S6 


GR^CO-ROMAN  ARCHITECTURE 


IV 

The  Komans  had  been  the  natural  inheritors  of 
Greek  architecture,  the  architecture  of  the  beam  and 
the  order,  through  the  Etruscans,  whether  bj  direct 
descent  or  by  co-heirship ;  they  took  it  also  direct- 
ly from  the  Greeks  by  right  of  conquest.  In  their 
early  days  they  were  as  conservative  as  primitive 
peoples  always  are,  and  until  prosperity  made  them 
worldly  fchey  were  religious.  They  were,  therefore, 
faithful  to  tradition  in  preserving  the  ancient  form 
of  the  temple,  with  its  single  order,  very  much  as 
the  Greeks,  or  the  Etruscans,  transmitted  it  to 
them,  and  this  form  had  naturally  a  determining 
influence  on  the  character  of  the  architecture  of 
the  Empire,  so  far  as  its  monumental  intention  was 
concerned.  The  single  order  stood  to  them  as  to 
the  Greeks  for  what  was  most  esteemed  in  archi- 
tecture, the  indispensable  form  for  monumental 
effect.  Yet  while  they  honored  the  traditional 
form,  they  did  not  shrink  from  incongruity  in  ap- 
plying it.  Thus  when  they  needed  a  larger  sanc- 
tuary in  their  temples,  they  expanded  the  cell  a 
till  it  took  in  the  whole  width  of  the  platform  ;  but 
the  lateral  colonnades  were  kept  imbedded,  as  it 
were,  in  the  side  walls  and  were  useless.  The  col- 
umn, thus  engaged,  as  the  term  is  (for  which  in- 
deed Greek  architecture  had  furnished  a  prece- 


GRJECO-ROMAN  ARCHITECTURE  G7 

dent),  and  still  bearing  witness  to  its  inalienable 
right,  was  an  important  member  of  tlie  style  of  the 
Empire,  most  distinctive  in  its  combination  with 
the  arch  in  secular  building. 

For  along  with  the  order  the  architecture  of 
Kome  had  inherited  from  the  Etruscans  the  arch, 
despised  and  rejected  by  the  Greeks,  but  honored 
and  monumentally  used  by  these.  It  was  probably 
the  child  of  the  bricklayer,  who  has  no  other  means 
of  bridging  an  opening ;  at  least  we  find  it  first  in 
alluvial  Mesopotamia,  where  the  Chaldees,  who  had 
no  stone  to  build  with,  raised  their  great  pyramids 
and  built  their  palaces  of  bricks,  and  where  the 
Assyrian  conquerors  who  appropriated  their  civ- 
ilization and  art,  as  the  Komans  did  the  Greek, 
adopted  it  from  them,  and  used  it  on  a  great  scale. 
Born  in  the  oriental  brick-fields,  it  came  to  the 
Greeks  with  all  the  associations  of  ignoble  mate- 
rial, profane  uses,  and  hated  sponsors.  Every  in- 
fluence of  religious  association,  conservatism,  and 
respect  for  the  Egyptian  example,  from  which  they 
had  learned  much,  bound  them  to  their  trabeated 
style.  Still  more,  the  instinct  for  harmony  of  form 
which  dominated  both  Egyptians  and  Greeks  could 
but  warn  them  that  the  use  of  the  arch  not  only 
implied  a  change  of  their  constructive  system,  but 
was  at  war  with  their  whole  architectural  scheme 
of  lines,  proportions,  and  monumental  effect.  Even 
as  late  as  the  time  of  Hadrian,  after  long  subjection 


33 


ORJECO-ROMAN  ARCHITECTURE 


of  Greece  to  Roman  control,  the  arcaded  conduit 
to  the  Tower  of  the  Winds  at  Athens  seems  to 
show  the  persistent  resistance  of  Greek  workmen 
on  their  own  soil  to  the  very  principle  of  the  arch, 
for  the  arches  are  cut  through  solid  slabs  of  stone 
instead  of  being  built  up  in  the  fashion  of  the  true 
arch. 

Over  the  Romans  such  traditions  and  feelings 
had  no  influence.  As  we  have  seen,  the  Etruscans 
had  used  both  order  and  arch,  keeping  the  one  as 
pure  in  their  temples  as  the  Greeks  did,  and  em- 
ploying the  other  in  their  tombs  and  in  their  civic 
building.  They  were  not  brick-builders,  and  while, 
as  Yitruvius  tells,  they  retained  the  primal  con- 
struction of  the  orders  in  wooden  beams,  they  built 
their  arches  in  stone.  The  gateways  of  Yolterra 
and  Perugia  still  show  us  how  monumentally  they 
used  them.  The  early  Romans,  building  their  city 
in  an  alluvial  region,  and  being  for  some  genera- 
tions little  more  than  a  community  of  needy  out- 
laws, were  naturally  in  the  habit  of  building  in 
brick  rather  than  stone.  The  often-quoted  boast 
of  Augustus  that  he  found  the  city  of  brick  and 
left  it  of  marble,  "  Marmoream  se  relinquere  quam 
latericiam^  recepisset,"  as  Suetonius  repeats  it,  in- 

'  The  use  of  the  word  latericiam  implies  sun-baked  bricks, 
and  we  find  that  Vitruvius  gives  careful  directions  for  their 
manufacture.  The  kiln-burned  brickwork  of  the  Empire  was 
famous,  of  great  variety  and  excellence  of  workmanship,  and 
provided  an  admirable  school  for  the  study  of  arches  and  vault- 


QRMCO-ROMAN  ARCHITECTURE 


39 


dicates  that  to  the  end  of  the  republic  brick  must 
have  been  the  chief  building  material. 

That  the  Eomans,  then,  whose  city  had  grown 
up  under  the  shelter  of  the  arch,  should  insist  on 
its  being  incorporated  into  their  perfected  archi- 
tecture was  inevitable.  As  they  grew  powerful 
and  extended  their  rule,  their  civic  functions  and 
their  life  became  complicated,  their  architectural 
needs  increased,  they  grew  sumptuous  and  osten- 
tatious. Even  before  their  imperial  days  they 
were  grown  too  progressive  and  too  full  of  new 
wants  to  be  restricted  in  their  use  of  architectural 
forms  by  old  religious  associations  or  by  any  of 
the  feelings  which  we  call  sentimental.  Indeed, 
in  their  worldly  greatness  they  appear  to  have 
worn  lightly  even  the  restraints  of  piety,  in  our 
sense  of  the  word,  and  their  reverence  seems  to 
have  been  but  shallow.  They  did  not  concentrate 
their  aspiration  and  effort  on  their  temples  as  the 
Egyptians  and  Greeks  had  done.  They  did  not 
build  them  on  the  same  imposing  scale.  The 
temples  were  many,  and  sometimes  large,  but  were 

ing,  in  which  the  Roman  builders  attained  great  skill.  It  is  not 
to  be  understood  that  there  was  no  building  in  stone  and  marble 
under  the  republic.  Though  little  remains  of  pre-Augustan 
architecture,  we  know  that  the  temples  were  not  built  of  brick 
— their  orders  indeed  could  not  be.  But  even  Tarquin's  Cloaca 
Maxima  is  arched  in  travertine,  and  we  are  told  that  Metellus 
built  the  first  marble  temple  as  early  as  140  B.C.  The  boast  of 
Augustus  was  only  rhetorically  true. 


40  orjECO-roman  architecture 

unimportant  beside  their  civic  buildings.  Many 
of  them  they  dedicated  to  their  own  fellows,  for 
they  did  not  hesitate  to  thrust  their  dead  em- 
perors, the  good  and  the  bad  alike,  into  the  com- 
pany of  the  gods,  to  which,  far  from  unexception- 
able as  it  was,  most  of  these  did  but  scanty  credit. 
They  were  not  to  be  constrained,  therefore,  like 
the  Greeks,  by  either  traditional  reverence  or  ar- 
tistic instinct,  to  keep  their  Order  pure.  They 
had  received  it  as  the  embodiment  of  all  that  was 
finest  in  architecture.  It  was  too  much  honored 
not  to  have  the  first  place ;  yet  the  arch  was  their 
own,  and  was  too  serviceable  to  be  set  aside. 
They  set  their  architects  to  combine  the  two. 
When  and  how  the  combination  was  fii^t  evolved 
is  an  obscure  question,  for  the  pre-Augustan  ar- 
chitecture of  Rome  is  almost  gone.  We  do  not 
doubt,  however,  that  the  Romans  themselves  com- 
pelled it,  and  that  it  was  first  done  in  Rome.  It 
at  least  shows  itseK  completely  accomplished  in 
the  form  to  which  we  are  used  in  the  remains  of 
the  Tabularium,  which  was  built  at  the  base  of 
the  Capitoline  Hill  in  78  B.C. 

The  arch  was  the  great  constnictive  factor  in 
the  architecture  of  the  Empire  ;  it  added  enor- 
mously to  the  builder's  resources  in  planning,  and 
to  his  means  of  architectural  elfect.  It  gave  him 
the  means  of  spanning  wide  openings,  and  when 
expanded  into  the  vault,  of  covering  great  spaces  ; 


ORyECO-ROMAN  ARCHITECTURE  41 

it  habituated  liim  to  curved  lines  and  surfaces. 
Helped  by  it,  and  spurred  by  the  new  wants  of 
the  complex  Roman  civilization,  he  enlarged  the 
scale  of  his  buildings  and  greatly  increased  the  in- 
tricacy of  their  plans.  He  used  his  new  combi- 
nations with  a  boldness  and  fertility  of  invention 
that  have  been  the  wonder  of  the  world  from  his 
age  to  ours,  constructing  on  a  scale  that  dwarfed 
everything  that  had  gone  before  except  the  colossal 
buildings  of  Egypt.  Under  a  new  stimulus,  and 
with  new  means  of  effect,  Roman  building  greatly 
outstripped  that  of  the  Greeks  in  extent,  in  vari- 
ety, and  magnificence.  The  cities  grew  into  great 
accumulations  of  various  buildings.  The  temples 
no  longer  dominated  each  important  town,  as  in 
Greece  in  earlier  days,  conspicuous  in  the  land- 
scape and  in  the  city's  fame,  like  the  cathedrals  in 
mediseval  towns.  The  civic  buildings,  and  even  pri- 
vate, far  outshone  them.  Streets  lined  with  porti- 
cos, arcades  above  arcades,  rank  over  rank  of  col- 
umns, houses  in  so  many  stories  that  in  Rome 
their  height  had  to  be  restricted  by  law,  took  the 
place  of  the  low-built  and  unpretending  towns  of 
the  early  Greeks.  Instead  of  the  trim  little  market- 
place, or  the  old  cross-roads  with  their  careless 
cluster  of  simple  and  refined  shrines,  stose  and 
town-hall,  were  dense  and  richly  adorned  forums. 
The  theatres  and  amphitheatres,  no  longer  sunk  in 
the  ground,  towered  above  the  lesser  buildings  with 


42 


GR^CO-ROMAN  ARCHITECTURE 


arcades  and  vaults  in  many  stories.  In  palaces 
and  thermae  one  stately  court  followed  another, 
balls  of  every  size  opened  together,  vaulted  or 
domed,  round,  square,  or  cruciform,  with  niches, 
exedras,  porticos,  splendid  with  bronze,  gold,  and 
rare  marbles,  pictured  walls  and  painted  ceilings, 
peopled  with  statues — all  in  marvellous  contrast  to 
the  simple  dwellings  of  the  early  days  of  Greece 
and  Kome.  The  country  seat  of  Diocletian  con- 
tains most  of  the  present  town  of  Spalato ;  the 
villa  of  Hadrian  and  the  golden  house  of  Nero 
were  probably  larger.  This  architectural  splendor 
was  not  confined  to  the  metropolis  or  to  Italy,  but 
covered  the  civilized  world  from  Gaul,  and  even 
from  Britain,  to  Syria  and  the  East,  as  city  after 
city  passed  under  the  dominion  of  Eome  and  grew 
rich  under  her  administration  and  commerce.  The 
heart  of  Kome  herself  was  occupied,  not  by  streets, 
but  by  a  connected  series  of  great  forums,  or 
squares  if  we  may  call  them  so,  laid  out  in  emula- 
tion by  one  emperor  after  another.  The  wayfarer 
in  the  time  of  the  Antonines,  coming  up  from  the 
Arch  of  Titus  and  along  the  Via  Sacra  between  the 
swarming  Forum  Bomanum  and  the  Basilica  Julia, 
would  find  before  him  the  long  way  winding  up  the 
Capitol  Hill  among  the  temples  of  Saturn,  of  Ves- 
pasian, and  of  Concord,  behind  which  rose  the  ar- 
cades of  the  Tabularium  and  over  them  the  Capitol, 
and  still  above  it  the  lofty  temple  of  Jupiter  Cap- 


On^CO-nOMAN  architecture  43 


itolinus — a  mighty  pile  of  buildings.  Then  if  he 
turned  off  to  the  right,  passing  by  the  golden  mile- 
stone of  Augustus  and  the  venerable  Kostra,  he 
could  go  from  forum  to  forum,  from  court  to  court, 
as  in  a  palace  of  giants,  from  the  colonnaded  Forum 
of  Csesar  surrounding  the  temple  of  Venus  Gene- 
trix,  through  the  galleries  of  the  Forum  of  Nerva 
into  that  of  Vespasian,  which  encircled  with  its 
porticos  the  great  temple  of  Peace,  enriched  with 
the  spoils  of  the  temple  at  Jerusalem.  Then 
crossing  again  the  Forum  of  Nerva  with  the  tem- 
ple of  Minerva  displayed  at  its  northerly  end,  he 
would  come  to  the  Forum  of  Augustus  and  pass 
the  famous  temple  of  Mars  Ultor,  where  the  square 
widened  out  between  great  sweeping  galleries. 
Then  he  would  enter  the  Forum  of  Trajan,  the 
design  of  the  unhappy  Apollodorus,  after  a  half- 
mile  of  walking  through  sumptuous  squares  and 
pillared  corridors,  and  see  before  him  the  great  en- 
closure flanked  by  deep  exedrae  behind  its  por- 
ticos, closed  on  the  farther  side  by  the  enormous 
double-colonnaded  Ulpian  basilica,  behind  which 
soared  the  column  of  Trajan  as  it  still  soars  to- 
day, and  still  farther  on  the  great  peripteral  temple 
of  Trajan,  with  its  enclosing  peribolus.  On  every 
side  his  eye  would  meet  splendid  monuments,  for- 
ests of  columns,  crowds  of  statues,  roofs  above  roofs 
shining  with  gilded  tiles,  and  fringed  with  more 
statues,  pediments  crowded  with  sculpture.  There 


44  ORJECO-ROMAN  ARCHITECTURE 

is  notliing  in  tlie  world  now  to  give  a  picture  of 
such  an  accumulation  of  architectural  magnificence. 
It  was  the  culmination  of  a  splendid  stateliness. 
Perhaps  nothing  in  our  day  has  come  so  near  sug- 
gesting it,  in  its  stateliness  though  not  in  its  splen- 
dor, as  that  great  gathering  of  transitory  build- 
ings, enormous  in  scale  and  magnificently  disposed, 
with  which  Americans  celebrated  their  four  hun- 
dredth anniversary  at  Chicago  in  1892.  This 
wonderful  cumulative  effect  of  architecture  was  a 
thing  which  the  Egyptians  never  reached,  although 
something  like  it  was  secured  by  simpler  means 
in  the  great  Egyptian  temples.  The  Greek  habit 
of  grouping  their  important  buildings  together 
tended  toward  it;  and  must  have  given  all  the 
architectural  effect  of  which  their  comparative- 
ly small  towns  were  capable.  The  Acropolis  at 
Athens  with  its  group  of  temples,  its  monuments, 
dominated  by  the  great  Athena  Promachos  and  its 
imposing  Propylaea,  gave  a  hint  of  it  on  a  small 
scale ;  but  the  habits  of  the  Greeks,  their  wants 
and  their  means,  did  not  lead  to  it,  and  their  simple 
architecture  of  temples  and  stose,  with  their  two 
orders,  though  they  bent  it  to  a  considerable  vari- 
ety of  forms,  would  have  been  greatly  strained  to 
provide  such  effects  on  the  scale  to  which  the  Ro- 
mans grew  accustomed. 


grjEco-roman  architecture 


45 


V 

Much  contumely  has  been  poured  upon  tlie 
Romans  for  neglecting  to  design  a  special  style  to 
suit  the  arch,  which  was  their  peculiar  form.  But, 
letting  alone  the  question  I  have  already  suggest- 
ed, whether  the  Romans,  as  distinguished  from  the 
Greeks,  did  design  architecture  at  all,  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  see  what  should  have  led  the  men  of  the 
Empire  to  do  this.  No  race  and  no  nation  which 
had  already  a  finished  style  of  its  own  has  ever 
deliberately  set  it  aside  to  make  another  to  suit  a 
new  form.  Their  problem  was,  and  they  could 
hardly  escape  it,  to  combine  the  arch  and  the  or- 
der. It  was  a  thankless  problem,  for  the  two 
forms  involved  hostile  principles  of  construction, 
and  the  union,  it  must  be  said,  was  artistically  im- 
perfect ;  but  it  was  not  in  their  nature  to  reason 
this  out.  For  them  the  union  was  inevitable,  and 
their  success  was  much  greater  than  the  last  gen- 
erations of  English  and  American  critics  have 
been  willing  to  allow. 

If  we  consider  the  problem  as  it  faced  the 
Romans,  and  examine  the  solution  without  pre- 
possession, we  shall  be  more  inclined,  I  think,  to 
admire  their  skill  than  to  deplore,  as  has  been  the 
fashion,  their  dulness.  The  problem  was  probably 
solved  by  Greek  brains — just  as  the  solution  was 


46  GR^CO-ROMAN  ARCHITECTURE 


doubtless  worked  out  by  Greek  hands,  and  with 
the  prepossession  of  race  in  favor  of  the  orders. 
The  Order,  as  we  have  seen,  was  a  structure  of 
beams,  horizontal  and  upright,  executed  in  stone 
instead  of  wood,  practically  suppressing  the  wall, 
which  is  commonly  the  substance  of  a  stone  build- 
ing ;  its  natural  embodiment  was  the  colonnade. 
The  arch  was  simply  a  hole  in  the  wall,  its 
security  depending  on  its  having  the  mass  and 
weight  of  the  wall  to  hold  it  together.  Arcuated 
architecture  is  then  the  architecture  of  surface  and 
mass,  as  trabeated  architecture  is  that  of  lines  and 
angles.  The  Eoman  method  of  combining  the  two 
was  to  build  the  wall,  pierced  by  its  series  of 
arches,  and  to  set  the  order  against  it,  showing 
always  an  arch  between  two  columns,  which 
carried  the  entablature  above  it.  The  columns 
were  lifted  on  pedestals  by  which  their  height  and 
the  scale  of  the  order  were  lessened,  but  the  stride 
of  the  colonnade  was  rather  unbecomingly  in- 
creased. To  ally  the  order  Avith  the  arch  a  sort 
of  capital,  the  impost  moulding,  was  put  about  tlie 
pier  to  receive  the  arch,  the  parts  were  bound  to- 
gether at  the  foot  by  carrying  the  base-mouldings 
of  the  pedestal  round  the  pier,  the  archivolt  or 
band  about  the  arch  echoed  the  architrave  of  the 
order,  and  finally  a  keystone,  set  into  the  crown 
of  the  arch,  was  carried  up  till  it  bore  against  the 
architrave.    This  keystone,  which  is  perhaps  the 


dR^CO-ROMAN  ARCHITECTURE  47 

best  detail  contributed  by  the  Roman  builders,  and 
is  of  great  aesthetic  importance  in  binding  the  arch 
and  the  order  together  at  the  most  critical  point, 
has  been  as  much  abused,  to  the  disfigurement  of 
arches,  as  any  other  feature  in  architecture.  The 
Eomans,  with  a  just  sense  of  its  office,  rejected  it 
from  detached  arches  and  confined  it  to  its  first 
purpose  ;  it  was  reserved  for  modern  architects  to 
thrust  it  on  the  arch  for  an  inevitable  companion, 
like  the  old  man  of  the  sea  on  the  shoulders  of 
Sindbad;  and  though  it  has  no  structural  value 
whatever  beyond  any  other  stone  in  the  arch,  the 
keystone  has  been  accepted  by  the  world  as  a 
structural  type,  and  all  the  honor  due  to  the  arch 
has  been  heaped  upon  it  in  language  and  litera- 
ture. 

In  this  transformation  the  architects  of  the  Em- 
pire held  unquestioningly  to  the  traditional  idea  of 
the  supremacy  of  the  Order,  to  which  the  Greek 
workman  was  held  by  his  tradition  as  the  es- 
sential in  all  architecture.  The  Order  had  a  patent 
of  nobility ;  the  right  thing  was  to  give  it  unques- 
tioned precedence,  and  to  remand  the  serviceable 
arch  to  service  under  it.  For  the  exigencies  of  the 
Boman  world  the  simple  one-story  architecture  of 
the  Greeks,  with  a  single  order  constituting  the 
whole  facade,  was  altogether  insufficient,  the  range 
of  forms  which  the  Greeks  provided  them  was  also 
insufficient.    The  modern  degradation  of  the  or- 


48 


GRJ^CO-ROMAN  ARCHITECTURE 


clers  by  which  two  or  three  stories  are  crowded 
under  one  of  them,  was  not  thought  of  till  the 
Renaissance  architects  contrived  it  in  their  one- 
sided zeal  to  combine  the  spirit  of  classic  archi- 
tecture with  their  necessities.  So  the  Romans 
piled  order  on  order  and  arcade  over  arcade  as 
they  set  one  story  after  another  to  their  buildings. 
To  the  two  orders  of  the  early  Greeks  they  added 
three  new  ones.  "We  see  four  stories  of  columns 
and  pilasters  on  the  Colosseum  ;  there  were  seven, 
we  are  told,  on  the  Septizonium  of  Septimius 
Severus.  They  provided  a  store  of  new  details, 
pedestals,  niches,  pilasters,  pedimental  window- 
caps,  keystones,  brackets  and  the  like.  They  de- 
vised numberless  forms  and  combinations  of  halls, 
courts,  porticos,  to  increase  the  extent  and  magnif- 
icence of  their  palaces  and  baths,  and  covered 
them  with  domes  and  vaults  in  a  great  variety  of 
forms.  The  ornament  of  Greek  buildings  had 
been  rich  and  abundant,  but  delicate  and  restrained ; 
the  sumptuous  taste  of  the  Romans  called  for  a  sur- 
feit of  decoration,  but  was  not  fastidious.  Whole 
orders  were  incrusted  with  unremitting  sculpture, 
like  a  Chinese  ivory,  as  appears  in  the  remains  of 
what  has  been  commonly  called  the  Temple  of 
Jupiter  Stator.  Floors,  walls,  ceilings  were  cov- 
ered with  lavish  decoration  in  marbles,  stucco,  mo- 
saic, painting,  gold  and  bronze,  sometimes  delicate, 
and  sometimes  coarse,  but  everywhere  exuberant. 


GR^CO-ROMAN  ARCHITECTURE  49 

The  arch  was  too  important  to  be  left  in  the 
utter  subserviency  to  which  it  was  first  subjected. 
It  had,  so  to  speak,  much  of  the  character  of  the 
Romans  themselves :  it  was  by  nature  ambitious 
and  domineering.  It  is  not  easy  to  put  the  arch 
and  the  order  together  without  attracting  the  eye 
more  to  the  arch  than  to  the  other.  The  order 
and  the  column  are  in  the  nature  of  things  limit- 
ed in  scale ;  the  arch  may  be  built  to  any  scale. 
The  Romans  evidently  liked  it  for  its  dignity  as 
much  as  for  its  convenience.  Their  monumental 
use  of  it  appears  in  the  triumphal  arches  that  were 
strewn  over  Italy,  over  Europe  we  may  say,  by  the 
conquerors  from  Augustus  to  Constantine,  in  the 
great  hall  of  the  basilica  of  Maxentius  or  Constan- 
tine, and  in  that  of  the  baths  of  Diocletian,  which 
Michel  Angelo  turned  into  the  church  of  Sta.  Ma- 
ria degli  Angeli  at  Rome.  It  tended  to  overbear 
the  order  which  was  set  over  it,  and  in  the  shape 
of  the  vault  and  dome  it  was  set  above  the  order, 
as  we  see  in  these  halls.  The  element  in  Greek 
architecture  which  was  suited  for  combination  with 
the  arch  was  the  column,  and  its  reasonable  place 
was  under  the  arch,  but  it  had  been  from  the  be- 
ginning married  to  the  entablature,  and  builders 
were  slow  to  conceive  the  idea  of  divorcing  it. 
Moreover,  the  natural  consort  of  the  arch  was  the 
pier.  An  arch,  as  we  have  noticed,  was  but  a  hole 
in  a  wall,  and  when  two  arches  were  brought  to- 


50 


ORj!EC0-It OMAN  AH  CIIITECTURE 


getlier  they  bad  between  them  a  pier.  The  bear- 
ing of  the  arches  on  the  pier  was  direct  and  nat- 
ural ;  to  replace  this  pier  by  a  column  and  read- 
just the  bearings  was  a  matter  of  contrivance  and 
difficulty  ;  nor  can  a  range  of  arches  stand  without 
a  pier  at  each  end.  And  yet  the  column  could 
not  in  the  long  run  be  spared.  The  mediaeval 
Italians,  fully  in  love  with  it,  used  it  often  to  the 
complete  neglect  of  the  pier,  and  held  the  arch 
together  without  abutment  by  tying  it  with  iron ; 
but  the  tie  was  an  obvious  makeshift,  and  other 
nations  have  not  imitated  them.  The  appropria- 
tion of  the  column  by  the  arch,  however,  involved 
the  complete  disruption  of  the  Order,  and  that 
was  too  sacred  to  be  tampered  with ;  its  alliance 
with  the  arch  lasted  through  the  classical  period. 

At  the  end  of  the  classical  period  the  vault, 
which  later  was  the  occasion  of  the  development 
of  mediaeval  architecture,  gave  an  indication  of 
the  way  in  which  the  connection  of  the  arch  and 
the  column  was  to  be  reached.  The  arch  of  a 
vault  could  not,  like  an  arch  in  a  wall,  be  set  b©- 
tween  columns ;  the  columns  must  stand  below. 
The  lunettes  of  the  groined  vaulting  of  a  lofty 
clerestory,  like  that  of  the  baths  of  Diocletian,  left 
between  them  a  thin  pendant  which  must  either 
die  away  obscurely  in  the  wall  or  show  in  a  pro- 
jection that  called  architecturally  for  some  special 
support.    This  was  exactly  the  place  for  a  single 


ORJECO-ROMAN  ARCHITECTURE  51 

column.  The  Komans  were  used  to  columns 
standing  apart — on  the  fronts  of  their  triumphal 
arches,  for  instance — but  in  every  case  a  bit  of  the 
inseparable  entablature  was  set  above  it,  and  sup- 
ported a  statue  or  something  else.  An  order  was 
an  order,  and  could  not  be  broken.  Column  and 
entablature  were  as  inseparable  as  the  Dioscuri. 
At  least  this  was  the  case  in  Kome,  where,  under 
the  Empire,  the  canons  of  art  were  most  strictly 
followed,  where  everything  was  more  normal  and 
more  formal  than  elsewhere,  and  where,  it  would 
seem,  except  when  an  emperor,  like  Trajan  or 
Marcus  Aurelius,  set  up  a  colossal  column  by  it- 
self for  a  monument,  the  column  was  never  seen 
without  the  entablature.  It  was  reserved  for  the 
provinces,  which,  under  the  later  emperors,  were 
the  home  of  all  the  progressive  spirit  of  the  time, 
to  find  the  new  path  for  architecture.  The  late 
Mr.  E.  A.  Freeman,  in  a  notable  essay  some  thirty 
years  ago,  called  attention  to  arcades  in  the  palace 
built  for  Diocletian  after  his  abdication  at  what  is 
now  the  town  of  Spalato,  in  which  are  the  earliest 
examples  we  know  of  arches  set  directly  upon  the 
capitals  of  columns,  the  entablature  being  entirely 
left  out.  Whether  this  change,  which  meant  a 
revolution  in  architecture,  was  seen  here  for  the 
first  time,  we  do  not  know ;  we  cannot  doubt  that 
it  was  an  Eastern  innovation,  and  may  believe 
that  it  was  Greek.    The  Eternal  City  held  her 


52 


GR^CO-ROM'AN  ARCHITECTURE 


orders  inviolate  as  long  as  she  kept  her  empire 
and  her  religion.  Her  empire  passed  with  the 
barbarian  Constantine  to  Constantinople,  which, 
with  a  population  of  Greeks  and  barbarians,  be- 
came under  the  first  Eastern  emperors  the  focus 
of  all  the  progress  of  the  world.  The  conserva- 
tive influence  of  Eome  gone,  classic  architecture 
perished.  The  column  kept  its  new  place  under 
the  arch ;  the  entablature  dwindled  to  a  band  of 
mouldings  or  to  a  mere  stilt,  and  presently  disap- 
peared. The  union  of  the  column  and  the  arch 
has  never  been  set  aside.  Its  survival  alongside 
of  the  resuscitated  Order,  when  classic  architect- 
ure was  renewed  in  the  Renaissance,  was  the  most 
important  difference  between  the  new  classic  and 
the  old.  Its  history  in  the  intervening  period 
belongs  to  Byzantine  and  Eomanesque  architect- 
ure. 


YI 

The  Romans  applied  the  system  of  what  we  now 
call  la  grande  culture  to  architecture.  Methods  of 
building,  types  of  design,  orders,  arches,  propor- 
tions, ornaments,  they  reduced  all  to  a  manufact- 
uring system.  They  were  essentially  engineers 
and  builders  rather  than  architects.  They  dealt 
in  masses  of  masonry,  walls,  and  piers  on  an  enor- 
mous scale.     Being  masterful  and  not  artistic, 


OR^CO-ROMAN  ARCHITECTURE  53 

with  a  genius  for  administration,  they  might  natu- 
rally fancy  that  architecture  corld  be  handled,  like 
building,  by  reducing  it  to  a  machine-made  prod- 
uct, to  be  turned  out  in  quantity  for  every  emer- 
gency. There  are  indications  that  their  great 
buildings  were  in  charge  of  engineers  rather  than 
of  artists ;  the  character  of  the  architecture  seems 
to  imply  that  it  was  their  care  to  contrive  such  a 
S3^stem  of  design  that  when  the  scheme  of  a  great 
building  had  been  devised  by  an  engineer  or  chief 
constructor,  designers  could  fit  the  conventional 
architectural  forms  to  it  by  rule  and  formula.  In 
this  way  we  have  seen  many  public  buildings  car- 
ried through  in  our  time  under  the  control  of  en- 
gineers with  the  aid  of  expert  draughtsmen.  The 
method  is  favorable  to  efficiency  and  rapidity. 
The  construction  of  Eoman  buildings  was  of  a  kind 
to  be  carried  out  under  a  similar  system  by  an 
army  of  ordinary  workmen,  with  great  speed  and 
on  an  extraordinary  scale.  This  was  only  possible 
with  an  architecture  which  had  been  disciplined 
into  a  rigid  system  of  proportion  and  decoration, 
where  every  form  and  every  detail  was  definitely 
prescribed,  and  small  details  were  repeated  in  ab- 
solute uniformity  by  the  hundred  or  by  the  rod. 
If  we  may  reason  from  Vitruvius,  this  was  the  rule 
under  which  the  imperial  architecture  was  brought. 
No  architecture  could  have  submitted  to  it  so  read- 
ily as  that  of  the  orders ;  none  could  have  fur- 


54 


OR^CO-TtOMAN  ARCHITECTURE 


nishecT  so  good  a  basis  for  it  as  that  of  the  Greeks, 
in  which  the  conditions  of  harmony,  effectiveness, 
beauty  of  form,  and  a  fair  adaptability  were  al- 
ready provided.  Under  such  conditions,  with  in- 
creasing wealth  and  increasing  population,  in  the 
pressure  of  new  wants  and  an  enormous  demand 
for  new  buildings,  it  was  natural  that  skill  in  con- 
struction should  grow  and  that  art  should  fail. 
They  had  taken  the  efficient  way,  but  they  lacked 
the  true  instinct ;  they  were  wise  enough  to  join 
the  architect  to  the  engineer,  yet  apparently  not 
wise  enough  to  let  him  work  in  his  own  way. 

The  Greeks,  to  be  sure,  had  been  in  their  kind 
as  good  constructors  as  the  Romans,  and  far  bet- 
ter, so  far  as  mechanical  execution  goes.  The 
Eomans  carried  nicety  of  construction  as  far  as 
their  practical  needs  called  for  it ;  the  Greeks  as 
far  as  they  cou'ld.  It  was  enough  for  the  Roman 
if  his  construction  was  sound,  and  if  it  could  be 
conveniently  and  rapidly  put  up.  He  wanted 
things  to  move,  and  would  not  waste  his  time.  He 
built  so  massively  that  he  could  build  fast,  even 
hastily,  and  mainly  by  unskilled  workmen.  His 
buildings  were  piles  of  rough  bricks  and  concrete ; 
he  overlaid  them  with  an  architectural  envelope, 
stately,  elaborate,  and  finely  enough  wrought  to 
satisfy  the  not  very  exacting  taste  of  his  time.  The 
Greek  never  could  do  his  work  finely  enough,  me- 
chanically as  well  as  artistically.    His  monumental 


Gli^CO-ROMAN  ARCHITECTURE  55 

instinct  pursued  him  everywhere.  Pkitarch,  speak- 
ing of  the  wonderful  work  of  building  in  Athens 
under  Pericles,  says  that  the  greatest  wonder  of 
all  was  the  speed  with  which  it  was  done.  Yet  the 
drums  of  the  great  columns  of  the  Parthenon,  six 
feet  in  diameter,  are  so  closely  set,  without  mor- 
tar, that  a  sheet  of  paper  could  not  be  worked  into 
the  joints,  and  the  whole  structure  is  laid  with  the 
same  precision.  The  Greek,  under  guidance  of 
his  monumental  instinct,  went  on  to  the  end  of  his 
independent  career,  steadily  refining  the  quality  of 
his  work.  The  Eoman  work,  on  the  other  hand, 
deteriorated  in  execution  and  in  artistic  quality 
from  its  first  great  outburst  under  the  early  em- 
perors, while  it  gained  in  greatness  and  richness 
of  conception ;  that  is,  it  came  more  and  more 
completely  under  Roman  influence,  so  that  the  last 
great  monuments  of  the  Empire,  the  baths  of  Cara- 
calla  and  Diocletian  and  the  basilica  of  Constan- 
tine,  while  they  were  its  most  splendid  monuments, 
were  its  most  inferior  in  execution.  The  triumphal 
arch  of  Septimius  Severus  is  a  much  ruder  work 
than  that  of  Titus,  and  when  Constantine  would 
glorify  himself  by  one  of  his  own,  more  magnifi- 
cent than  its  predecessors,  he  had  to  pillage  that 
of  Trajan  to  find  decoration  for  it. 

It  has  been  a  recent  habit  to  vilipend  the  Ro- 
mans for  the  falsity  of  their  construction — build- 
ing on  arches  and  making  a  pretence  of  lintels, 


56  GR^CO-liOMAN  AliCHlTECTURE 

using  concrete  within  and  travertine  or  marble 
without — and  to  praise  the  Greeks  for  the  truth- 
fulness of  theirs.  But  the  modern  doctrine  of 
sincerity  in  building,  of  the  faithful  correspond- 
ence of  decoration  and  appearance  to  the  reality  of 
construction,  finds  little  comfort  in  either.  In 
truth  the  doctrine  as  such  is  apparently  altogeth- 
er a  thing  of  the  literature  of  this  century.  The 
work  of  the  best  mediaeval  period  seems  to  have 
been,  for  reasons  which  w^e  cannot  discuss  here,  in 
consonance  with  it;  but  it  is  doubtful  whether 
artists,  left  to  themselves,  would  ever  have  dis- 
covered it.  Evidently  neither  Greek  nor  Koman 
concerned  himself  with  it.  To  the  Eomans  con- 
struction was  confessedly  one  thing  and  architect- 
ure another ;  with  the  Greeks,  though  appearances 
are  in  their  favor,  it  was  not  so  very  different.  It 
is  true  that  their  traditional  system  of  construc- 
tion was  at  the  bottom  of  their  whole  decorative 
scheme.  Yet  if  we  examine  the  Parthenon  mi- 
nutely, we  shall  find  that  the  delicately  fitted  joints 
in  the  columns  are  only  wrought  in  a  ring  a  few 
inches  wide  at  the  circumference,  where  the  drums 
have  been  ground  together  like  the  neck  of  a  bot- 
tle and  its  glass  stopper,  and  that  all  the  inner 
surface  is  cut  away  roughly  so  as  to  escape  contact 
and  leave  the  greater  part  of  the  joint  open  and  hol- 
low. So  the  great  mass  of  the  marble  contributes 
less  to  the  support  of  the  heavy  superstructure 


GRJECO-ROMAN  ARCHITECTURE  57 

than  the  concrete  filling  of  Eoman  walls,  or  the 
rubbishy  cores  of  the  great  columns  of  Eameses  at 
Karnak.  "Worse  than  this,  the  magnificent  spread- 
ing capitals  of  the  Parthenon,  that  with  their  solid 
abacus  and  springing  echinus  assume  to  carry 
lightly  the  weight  of  the  great  entablature,  gather- 
ing it  in  securely  to  the  shaft,  really  do  no  work  at 
all.  Lest  the  finely  wrought  edges  of  the  abacus 
should  be  damaged  by  any  unequal  pressure  from 
the  architrave,  the  weight  of  the  entablature  is 
taken  by  a  shoulder  or  bench  a  fraction  of  an  inch 
high,  the  scamillus  of  Yitruvius,  which  receives 
the  architrave  and  carefully  holds  it  up  out  of 
reach  of  the  capital.  This  scamillus,  a  miniature 
of  the  die  set  visibly  above  the  Egyptian  capital, 
is  so  low  that  it  could  not  be  seen  or  suspected 
without  a  close  examination  made  high  up  at  the 
level  of  the  abacus  itself.  The  Greeks  were  before 
all  things  artists,  and  they  would  not  detach  ar- 
tistic beauty  from  perfection  of  execution,  differ- 
ing in  this  from  those  artists  of  our  day  who  pour 
contempt  on  mechanical  perfection.  But  like  all 
artists  in  whom  the  artistic  sense  is  entirely  dom- 
inant, they  did  not  look  below  the  surface.  In 
architecture,  which  is  pre-eminently  the  art  of 
form,  they  did  not  trouble  themselves  about  reality 
in  what  has  been  called  functional  expression ;  it 
was  enough  for  them  to  maintain  carefully  the  ap- 
pearance of  it.    That  the  builders  of  the  Roman 


58  OR^CO-ROMAN  ARCHITECTURE 


Empire  should  infuse  into  tlieir  art  ethical  princi- 
ples for  which  the  life  of  their  day  had  no  counter- 
part, or  should  inherit  what  had  not  gone  before, 
was  hardly  to  be  expected. 

The  treatment  which  the  orders  themselves  re- 
ceived at  the  hands  of  the  Empire,  apart  from  their 
combination  with  the  arch,  has  brought  reproach 
upon  the  Romans,  not  without  cause.  While 
building  went  on  increasing  in  scale  and  mass,  the 
builders  kept  lightening  the  orders,  so  that  these, 
instead  of  gaining  a  corresponding  robustness,  lost 
the  vigor  which  they  had  in  the  hands  of  the 
Greeks  of  the  golden  time.  The  Doric  suffered 
most.  They  thinned  its  architrave,  on  whose 
massiveness  the  grandeur  of  the  Greek  Doric 
greatly  depends,  and  also  the  cornice ;  they  wi- 
dened the  frieze  and  narrowed  the  triglyplis  ;  they 
elongated  the  columns  and  gave  them  bases.  These 
changes,  it  must  be  said,  were  in  line  with  those 
that  showed  themselves  in  Greek  architecture  after 
it  had  passed  its  prime.  They  would  seem  to  be 
at  least  in  the  direction  of  delicacy,  but  they  were 
neutralized  by  the  want  of  artistic  feeling  with 
which  they  were  made.  The  Ionic  capital  was 
squeezed  and  flattened  out  of  all  its  grace.  In  Rome 
especially  the  details  of  the  orders  were  vulgarized  ; 
their  ornaments  were  degraded,  their  mouldings 
were  reshaped,  and  lines  of  the  rule  and  compass, 
which  might  be  traced  by  an  ordinary  workman, 


ORyECO-ROMAN  ARCHITECTURE  59 

were  substituted  for  the  delicate  hand-drawn  pro- 
filing of  the  Greeks.  So  the  one  charm  which  the 
Romans  might  have  saved  if  they  could  have  rec- 
ognized it,  in  which  there  was  no  hostility  to  the 
practical  requirements  to  which  their  architecture 
was  bent,  was  cast  aside  as  if  their  eyes  were 
closed  to  it. 

It  is  easy  to  forget  the  debt  which  the  architect- 
ure of  the  world  owes  the  Roman  Empire.  The 
arch  and  its  congener  the  vault  gave  to  the  art  of 
building  a  flexibility  and  power  that  enormously 
increased  its  capabilities.  They  could  carry  walls 
of  any  height  and  span  openings  and  spaces  of  al- 
most any  width.  They  could  adapt  themselves  to 
curved  walls  and  rounded  plans,  at  which  the  lintel 
visibly  relucts,  though  we  have  seen  it  constrained 
to  them.  The  curved  wall  itself,  once  introduced 
into  building  with  the  arch,  added  immense  va- 
riety to  the  resources  of  both  plan  and  eleva- 
tion ;  the  vault  and  dome  gave  forms  of  dignity 
and  grace  which  in  due  time  revolutionized  the  art 
of  building.  The  multiplied  arch  opened  later  a 
new  kingdom  of  richness  and  picturesqueness. 
The  buildings  of  the  Empire  show  a  command  of 
resources,  a  power  of  adaptation  that  astonish 
us  ;  no  other  architecture  compares  with  them  in 
those  qualities  of  design  till  we  come  to  the  Re- 
naissance. Though  we  conclude  that  the  carrying 
out  of  these  Avorks  was  in  the  hands  of  Greek  work- 


60  OR^CO-ROMAN  ARCHITECTURE 

men,  yet  it  would  seem  that  the  spirit  which  im- 
pelled the  transformation  must  have  been  that  of 
the  Roman  masters.  The  architecture  of  the  Em- 
pire went  as  far  beyond  the  Greek  in  its  power  of 
conception,  as  it  fell  below  in  artistic  quality  of  exe- 
cution. Did  the  Greek  race,  under  the  masterful 
stimulus  of  Roman  influence  and  of  the  practical 
requirements  of  their  time,  furnish  the  conceptions 
as  well  as  the  execution?  At  any  rate,  let  us  give 
the  imperial  architecture  the  credit  that  is  due  it, 
of  being  greater  in  ideas,  more  abundant  in  re- 
sources, fuller  in  invention,  than  any  that  had  been 
known  in  the  world  before. 


SANTA  COSTA NZ A— ROM K 
Time  of  Constaiitine 


1 


THE  AGE  OF  CONSTANTINE 


I 

If  we  look  back  in  the  history  of  Kome  to  the 
accession  of  Constantine,  at  the  beginning  of  the 
fourth  century,  we  shall  remember  that,  though 
her  prestige  remained,  influence  and  energy  were 
long  gone  out  of  her.  The  seat  of  influence  was 
the  seat  of  military  power,  that  is,  the  army  ;  and 
the  army  was  kept  busy  on  the  frontiers,  where 
the  barbarians  were  always  harrying  the  empire, 
and  especially  in  the  East.  The  army  had  for  a 
long  time  made  the  emperors ;  some  of  the  most 
noted  of  them  were  provincials,  of  barbarian  stock. 
Septimius  Severus  was  an  African,  Diocletian  an 
lUyrian ;  Constantine,  born  in  Moesia  in  Asia 
Minor,  was  made  emperor  at  York.  Eome  had 
little  to  do  with  the  empire  except  to  live  on  it, 
and  be  its  figure-head.  The  active  emperors 
spent  their  time  away  from  her,  and  some  of  them 
never  saw  her  during  their  reigns ;  she  lived  in 
indolent  tranquillity,  undisturbed  except  for  occa- 
sional riots.    Her  population  consisted  of  the  old 

6L 


62 


THE  AQE  OF  COXSTAyTINE 


patrician  families,  who  lived  on  their  incomes, 
supported  their  troops  of  dependents,  and  gave 
the  tone  to  the  city ;  the  tradesmen  and  work- 
people, mostly  slaves  and  freedmen ;  and  the  idle 
populace,  who  held  themselves  superior  to  the 
tradesmen  and  work-people,  and  lived  on  the 
largess  of  the  empire.  She  had  no  stirring  mid- 
dle class;  commerce  was  nothing  to  her.  The 
city  was  finished,  overbuilt  indeed;  her  art  and 
literature,  imported  from  Greece,  were  decadent, 
and  given  over  to  the  lifeless  imitation  of  old 
models.  The  Senate  still  sat  and  legislated  per- 
functorily ;  its  only  duty  was  to  pass  the  edicts  of 
the  emperors.  Eome  was  the  stagnant  home  of 
old  traditions,  old  customs,  old  ideas,  and  old 
superstitions.  She  was  full  of  an  overweening 
veneration  for  the  traditions  and  memories  of  her 
old  greatness,  and  closed  to  the  ideas  of  progi-ess 
with  which  the  world  outside  was  already  fer- 
menting. There  was  a  considerable  body  of  Chris- 
tians among  her  people,  chiefly  among  the  slaves 
and  freedmen,  it  would  seem ;  some  of  them  were 
prosperous  and  even  wealthy,  and  beginning,  in 
the  cessation  of  persecution,  to  let  their  worship 
appear,  and  to  build  churches  for  it  above  ground, 
but  outside  the  walls.  As  yet  few  persons  of  in- 
fluence were  among  them,  and  they  were  looked 
down  upon  by  both  the  patricians  and  the  idle 
populace. 


THE  AGE  OF  CONSTANTINE  63 

Rome  was  pagan,  and  pagan  she  remained,  even 
after  Constantine,  in  her  ruliDg  spirit.  The  patri- 
cians were  slow  to  accept  the  Christian  religion, 
and  clave  to  their  old  worship,  at  first  publicly, 
afterward  secretly,  long  after  the  official  religion 
was  established.  Julian  the  Apostate,  half  a  cen- 
tury after  Constantine's  conversion,  only  gave 
public  expression  to  this  smouldering  paganism 
when  he  tried  conscientiously  to  bring  back  the 
empire  to  the  worship  of  its  old  gods.  This  was 
a  part  of  the  ineradicable  conservatism  of  Rome, 
a  conservatism  which  fairly  matches  that  of  her 
later  years.  Even  among  the  lower  classes,  who 
formed  the  body  of  the  faithful,  the  superstitions 
of  the  old  worship  lingered  almost  unimpaired  for 
many  generations ;  the  worship  of  saints  took  the 
place  of  the  cult  of  nymphs  and  fauns ;  the  Chris- 
tian festivals  were  set  designedly  on  the  days  of 
heathen  feasts,  and  it  is  curious  to  note  how  many 
popular  superstitions  which  have  survived  in  Italy 
to  this  day,  and  from  her  spread  through  Christen- 
dom, are  clear  survivals  of  the  superstitions  of 
pagan  mythology,  such  as  the  evil  eye,  the  sinister 
meaning  of  omens  seen  on  the  left,  and  a  hundred 
common  signs  of  good  luck  or  ill. 

As  she  was  pagan,  so  she  was  classic.  Her  art 
was  interwoven  with  her  religion,  interpenetrated 
by  it,  shaped  by  it  and  by  the  traditions  which 
came  down  with  it  from  her  early  history.  That 


64 


THE  AGE  OF  CONSTANTIXE 


her  conservatism  should  show  itself  especially  in 
art  was  inevitable.  For  the  gospel  which  was  to 
work  a  radical  change  in  the  moral  and  social 
order  of  the  world  had  no  direct  message  whatever 
for  art.  The  Church  took  her  art  where  and  as 
she  found  it.  The  only  change  she  made  in  it 
was  by  the  introduction  of  new  symbolism,  and 
even  her  characteristic  symbols  were  in  great  part 
the  symbols  of  the  old  worship  invested  with  a 
new  meaning,  which  may  or  may  not  have  been 
discriminated  by  the  multitude  of  believers.  Thus 
the  emblem  of  Bacchus  became  one  of  the  cher- 
ished emblems  of  Christ,  and  the  amoretti  which 
sported  among  the  vines  on  the  walls  and  vaults 
of  the  imperial  palaces  continued  their  gambols 
unrebuked  in  the  name  of  cherubs  on  the  vaults  of 
Sta.  Costanza  and  on  the  Christian  sarcophagi  of 
the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries. 

This  obstinate  conservatism  of  classic  art  has 
not,  I  think,  been  sufficiently  recognized.  So 
long  as  the  art  of  Italy  lasted  it  was  classic.  It  is 
common  to  assume  that  the  new  religion  brought 
a  new  impulse  to  art,  and  began  at  once  to  develop 
a  new  system  of  forms  which  grew  continuously 
into  the  art  of  the  Middle  Ages.  But  the  new  art 
did  not  germinate  in  the  West  till  the  old  had  ex- 
pired; and  before  this  the  greater  part  of  Italy 
had  been  reduced  by  violence,  disorder,  impover- 
ishment, pestilence,  famine,  and  depopulation,  to 


THE  AGE  OF  CONSTANTINE 


65 


a  condition  in  which  art  was  the  last  thing  to 
which  her  wretched  inhabitants  had  attention  to 
give.  It  was  the  destroyer  himself  who  lifted  her 
out  of  this  condition,  and  when  she  rose  again  it 
was  not  only  to  a  new  social  order  and  a  new^  art, 
but  practically  with  a  new  population.  It  was 
not  to  the  new  religion,  but  to  the  new  blood  that 
art  owed  its  regeneration. 

It  was  in  the  East  that  the  barbarians  began  to 
overrun  the  empire.  There  they  did  not  anni- 
hilate the  social  and  political  order  as  in  Italy, 
but  rather  were  absorbed  and  assimilated  by  it, 
till  in  the  end  they  may  be  said  to  have  absorbed 
it.  This  process  was  going  on  before  Christianity 
became  the  religion  of  the  empire.  As  order  and 
government  did  not  perish  in  the  East,  but  were 
gradually  transmuted  into  new  forms  which  suited 
a  new  people,  so  it  was  with  art;  and  the  art 
shaped  by  this  process  of  transmutation  retained 
in  the  end  much  more  of  classic  character  than  in 
the  new  German  kingdoms  of  Italy,  where,  when 
it  grew  again,  it  grew  de  novo. 

To  the  East,  then,  we  naturally  look  for  the 
connecting  links  that  join  classic  art  to  Christian  ; 
but  there  these  links  are  peculiarly  difficult  to 
trace,  for  they  have  been  nearly  obliterated  by  the 
later  invasion  of  later  races,  bringing  a  new  and 
militant  religion — races  which  have  not  assimi- 
lated Avith  the  conquered  people,  and  whose  blood 


6j  the  age  of  constantine 

has  rather  curdled  than  clarified  that  of  the  coun- 
tries which  the  Turk  has  overrun.  But  the  great 
palace  that  Diocletian  built  at  Spalato,  the  later 
churches  at  Constantinople,  culminating  in  Sta. 
Sofia,  the  buildings  of  Theodoric  and  his  succes- 
sors at  Eavenna,  purely  Byzantine  in  style,  and 
scattered  survivals  here  and  there,  especially  the 
singularly  preserved  series  of  stone  buildings  of 
Syria,  give,  when  comparatively  studied,  a  very 
convincing  picture  of  the  progressive  changes  of 
architecture  in  the  East.  It  has  been  a  habit  to 
look  on  the  East,  including  Greece  after  the  loss 
of  her  independence,  as  the  home  of  conservatism, 
given  over  to  intellectual  coma,  and  lost  to  prog- 
ress. But  though  the  later  empire  of  the  East  stif- 
fened into  immobility  and  routine,  and  though 
after  the  Roman  conquest  Greece  declined  into 
artistic  stagnation  as  well  as  political,  yet  in  the 
brilliant  days  of  the  Roman  dominion,  through 
the  reigns  of  the  Antonines  and  down  to  the  time 
of  Justinian  and  later,  the  Eastern  provinces  were 
the  focus  of  the  energy  and  progress  of  the  world. 
While  Rome  lived  in  idle  indulgence  on  tributary 
wealth,  the  busy  cities  of  the  East  created  that 
wealth.  The  ruins  of  Asia  and  Syria  show  their 
astonishing  prosperity  and  prove  their  continual 
progress.  The  exceeding  refinement  of  form  and 
fastidious  adjustment  of  detail  that  belonged  to 
the  Greeks  had  been  gradually  lost,  as  was  natural 


THE  AGE  OF  CONSTANTINE 


67 


when  the  consecrated  classic  forms,  refined  by  two 
or  three  centuries  of  consecutive  study,  came  to  be 
modified  or  supplanted ;  yet,  if  we  may  trust  De 
Vogue's  plates,  the  detail  of  architectural  work 
done  in  Syria  from  the  second  or  third  century  to 
the  seventh  was  as  clear-cut  and  well-adjusted  as 
any  except  that  of  the  very  best  times,  and  far 
finer  than  contemporary  work  in  Italy.  It  is  not 
fair,  I  think,  to  speak  of  the  first  Christian  cen- 
turies as  a  period  of  general  decadence  in  archi- 
tecture. In  some  respects  a  great  change  had 
come  over  architecture  and  the  spirit  in  which  it 
was  designed.  Though  the  exquisite  sense  of  the 
Greek  architects  for  proportion  and  for  refinement 
in  detail  had  decayed  under  the  Romans,  the 
period  of  Roman  formalism  was  passed  and  a 
decorative  spirit  had  come  in  which,  if  it  lacked 
the  perfect  grace  of  the  old  Greek  and  was  over- 
exuberant,  as  some  of  us  would  say,  was  yet  full 
of  freshness,  vigor,  and  invention.  It  could  not 
easily  outdo,  I  suspect,  the  richness  of  pure  Greek 
art,  which  was  more  sumptuous  than  we  are  apt 
to  imagine  ;  but  it  substituted  an  opulence  of  su- 
perb material,  a  wayward  freedom  and  exuberance 
of  form,  and,  especially  with  the  development  of 
mosaic,  a  profusion  of  colored  surface  decoration 
that  outshone  the  splendor  of  the  earlier  time. 
The  technique  of  architecture,  apart  from  the  fin- 
ish of  its  workmanship,  had  in  some  ways  greatly 


68 


THE  AGE  OF  CONSTANTINE 


advanced  under  the  Komans,  and  continued  to  ad- 
vance. The  squared  masonry  and  simple  lintel 
construction  of  the  Greeks,  unequalled  in  its  kind, 
had  been  replaced  by  a  complex  system  of  arches, 
vaults,  and  domes,  with  a  carefully  lavish  use  of 
rough  material,  cased  in  wrought  stone  or  marble, 
carried  to  a  gigantic  scale,  with  unexampled  gran- 
deur of  effect,  and  building  structures  of  a  com- 
plexity, size,  and  audacious  conception  which  even 
the  nineteenth  century  shrinks  from  attempting. 
The  technical  advance  by  no  means  stopped  as  the 
splendor  of  the  empire  decayed  after  the  period  of 
the  Antonines.  The  steps  of  the  succeeding  de- 
velopment are  not  clearly  traced,  owing  to  the  dis- 
appearance of  the  buildings  which  should  have 
shown  them,  but  the  monuments  of  Constantino 
and  the  more  fully  developed  architecture  of  Jus- 
tinian show  a  transformation  that  could  not  have 
come  of  a  sudden  change — a  thing  which  never 
happened  in  architecture  till  in  modern  days  fash- 
ion got  its  hands  upon  it — but  indicate  clearly  a 
continuous  modification,  some  phases  of  which, 
at  least,  are  still  to  be  seen  in  the  architecture  of 
Central  Syria  and  in  scattered  monuments  that 
survive  elsewhere. 

So,  while  Borne  was  decadent,  and  art  was  de- 
cadent in  her,  architecture  at  least  was  not  only 
alive  but  in  some  ways  advancing  in  the  East. 
Constantine's  great  predecessor,  Diocletian,  when 


THE  AGE  OF  CONS  TAN  TIN'S 


69 


he  withdrew  from  empire  retired — if  it  was  re- 
tirement to  move  nearer  than  his  capital  to  the 
centre  of  all  activity — to  his  native  Illyrium,  and 
there  built  the  great  palace  which  is  our  record  of 
the  progress  of  architecture  up  to  his  day.  I  say 
up  to  his  day,  for  the  changes  shown  in  it  can 
hardly  be  the  sudden  efflorescence  of  that  one 
building,  but  must  be  in  the  main  examples  of 
what  was  going  on  in  the  current  of  contemporary 
progress. 

The  palace,  surviving  in  isolation,  cannot  have 
been  the  only  practising  ground  for  such  great  in- 
novations as  it  shows  us.  We  find  in  it  not  only 
that  direct  imposition  of  the  arch  on  the  column 
for  which  it  has  been  specially  called  into  notice, 
but  the  continuous  wall-arcade,  the  corbelled  col- 
umn, the  razeeing  of  the  entablature  almost  to  a 
stilt-block,  precursor  of  Ravenna  and  Thessalonica, 
the  bending  of  the  whole  entablature  about  the 
arch,  as  in  Syria,  the  plate-band,  the  arch  carried 
over  a  lintel  and  cornice  without  impost  or  pilas- 
ter. All  these  are  not  signs  of  a  sudden  impulse 
due  to  a  great  opportunity,  but  rather,  it  would 
seem,  are  part  and  parcel  of  a  consecutive  devel- 
opment in  the  art  of  architecture.  If  we  turn  to 
Central  Syria,  we  find  in  the  early  churches,  as  old 
as  Constantine  or  older,  the  basilican  form  well 
established,  the  nave  and  aisles  wdth  bordering 
arcades,  the  round  eastern  apse  flanked  by  two 


70  THE  AGE  OF  CONSTAXTINE 

rooms  like  sacristies  (the  protliesis  and  diaconicon 
of  the  Byzantine  churches),  the  clerestory^,  and  tho 
narthex  across  the  front.  In  the  great  church,  or 
rather  quadruple  group  at  Kalat-Siman,  built,  so 
far  as  we  can  make  out,  only  about  a  century  after 
Constantino's  time,  we  see  the  clerestory  beset  by 
a  range  of  corbelled  columns  carrying  an  upper 
range  of  corbels  on  which  the  roof -trusses  rested, 
an  apse  surrounded  without  by  ranges  of  like  col- 
umns running  up  into  the  arcaded  cornice,  a  pro- 
jecting triple -arched  porch  with  three  gables 
crossing  the  front,  and  three  eastern  apses,  as  in  a 
Western  church  of  the  twelfth  century.  The  one 
feature  wanting  to  the  Syrian  churches  is  the 
transept,  as  is  natural  in  these  small  churches,  in- 
tended either  for  monastic  use,  or  for  small  con- 
gregations, and  for  the  celebration  of  the  service 
by  a  small  number  of  the  clergy. 

II 

If  w^e  look  at  the  architecture  of  the  Church  in 
Italy  in  Constantine's  reign,  taking  this  as  a  con- 
spicuous period  rather  than  as  the  epoch  of  a  great 
architectural  transformation,  we  shall  find  archi- 
tecture well  advanced  in  the  transition  from  clas- 
sic forms  to  those  of  the  Christian  Church.  We 
shall  have  reason  to  believe  that  the  transition 
was  accomplished  in  tho  East  rather  than  in  Italy, 


THE  AGE  OF  CONSTANTINE  71 

and  that  it  was  a  deliberate,  consecutive  develop- 
ment of  architecture  apart  from  its  special  uses, 
whether  secular  or  ecclesiastical,  although  certain 
definite  forms  of  buildings  had  been  evolved  for 
the  special  use  of  the  church.  The  indications 
are  that  the  transformations  were  the  work  of  the 
same  Greek  people  who  had  invented  or  shaped 
the  classic  architecture  itself.  By  this  time,  ap- 
parently, the  colonnade  and  entablature  had  gen- 
erally gone  out  of  use  in  the  East ;  and  under  the 
guidance  probably  of  Greek  artists  the  arch, 
which  Greece  had  refused  in  the  days  of  her  first 
architectural  glory,  was  taken  where  the  Eomans 
left  it,  and  made  the  dominant  and  controlling 
element  both  in  design  and  construction,  lifted 
from  servitude  to  a  regal  position  which  it  kept 
through  all  the  Middle  Ages.  It  is  likely  that 
Constantine  first  brought  the  new  architectural 
forms  into  Eome — perhaps  they  had  as  yet  no 
place  in  Italy,  and  that  they  found  there  an  uncon- 
genial home. 

The  kind  of  church  which  Constantine  built,  and 
which  his  successors  perpetuated,  must  have  been 
developed  in  the  East,  though  it  differs  from  the 
smaller  churches  which  we  have  just  noticed  in 
Syria.  That  which  Paulinus,  bishop  of  Tyre, 
built,  as  Eusebius  describes  it,  so  far  as  we  can 
understand  his  description,  was  substantially  of 
the  same  type,  and  Eusebius  does  not  stint  his 


72 


THE  AGE  OF  CONSTAXTINE 


words  in  describing  its  splendor.  Tyre  was  at  this 
time  tlie  most  prosperous  city  of  Syria,  and  tlie 
Cliurch  had  been  important  there.  In  many  cities 
of  Asia  Minor  the  churches  were  prosperous  from 
the  first  centuries,  and  as  they  gained  in  member- 
ship and  wealth,  where  they  were  not  under  a  ban 
as  in  Kome,  there  was  every  reason  for  providing 
them  with  buildings  of  size  and  importance.  The 
prominence  of  the  early  churches,  the  complexity 
of  organization  which  they  soon  developed,  the 
growth  of  ceremonial  and  ritual,  all  testify  not  only 
to  numbers  but  to  position  and  wealth.  There  is 
a  significant  edict  of  Licinius,  Constantine's  rival 
in  the  East,  which  orders  that  men  and  women 
shall  enter  their  churches  through  separate  doors, 
and  which,  whether  or  not  it  testifies  to  their 
orderly  ways,  indicates  considerable  importance  in 
the  communities  which  were  so  disciplined  by  im- 
perial edict.  It  probably  points  to  a  system  of 
which  the  need  had  come  to  be  recognized,  and 
which  finds  its  recognition  in  the  plans  of  the 
basilicas  of  that  time,  that  is,  the  separation  of  the 
sexes  among  the  worshippers. 

I  shall  not  go  into  the  question  of  the  origin  of 
the  Christian  basilica;  it  is  long,  intricate,  and 
difficult.  It  is  enough  to  recall  that  secular  basili- 
cas were  common  in  Kome,  that  they  existed  and 
were  probably  abundant  in  provincial  cities,  and 
that  there  is  no  record  of  the  conversion  of  any 


THE  AOE  OF  CCTNKTANTINE 


73 


civic  basilica  to  the  use  of  the  church.  Constan- 
tine  built  basilican  churches  both  in  the  East  and 
the  "West,  and  the  type  was  naturally  the  same, 
though  there  are  indications  of  certain  significant 
differences.  One  of  his  first  cares  was  to  redeem 
and  reconsecrate  the  Holy  Sepulchre.  There  had 
been,  we  are  told,  a  systematic  attempt  of  the 
pagans  to  obliterate  it  by  covering  it  up  with 
earth  and  by  building  a  temple  of  Venus  over  it. 
The  temple  must  have  perished,  for  it  needed  su- 
pernatural intervention  to  enable  him  to  find  the 
sepulchre.  He  restored  it  and  built  over  and  about 
it  a  splendid  basilica.  It  is  not  easy  to  fully  under- 
stand Eusebius's  description  of  this,  owing  to  our 
uncertainty  as  to  the  meaning  of  the  Greek  tech- 
nical terms — an  uncertainty  in  which  possibly  the 
pious  bishop  had  a  share — but  it  shows  plainly 
enough  the  principal  points  :  first,  toward  the  east 
was  a  great  atrium  apparently  enclosing  the  sepul- 
chre, with  porticos  on  three  sides  ;  then,  facing  the 
east,  a  porch  and  three  doors  ;  then  an  inner  ves- 
tibule ;  and,  then  the  body  of  the  church,  "  built 
up  to  infinite  height,  spread  Out  to  immensity  in 
length  and  breadth."  The  splendor-loving  Con- 
stantine  would  have  it  as  magnificent  as  became 
the  place  where  the  head  of  the  Church  was  laid, 
now  that  so  much  magnificence  was  gathered  about 
the  shrines  of  his  followers.  In  his  letter  of  in- 
structions to  Macrinus,  bishop  of  Jerusalem,  he 


74 


THE  AGE  OF  CONSTANTIXE 


orders  "  that  all  the  churches  which  in  every  State 
hold  the  first  place,  shall  be  far  surpassed  by  the 
dignity  of  this  :  "  "  for  this  place,  which  is  easily 
the  first  in  all  the  world,  must  be  worthily  set  off 
with  every  adornment."  So  the  church  was  to  bo 
built  outwardly  of  smooth-wrought  stones  and  in- 
wardly lined  with  varied  marbles,  divided  length- 
wise by  colonnades  or  arcades,  covered  with  fret- 
ted ceilings  of  wood,  and  partly  with  vaulting,  and 
ended  in  a  western  apse,  surrounded  with  twelve 
columns  typifying  the  twelve  apostles.  I  see  no 
indication  of  a  transept  in  this  description,  but 
in  another  great  basilica,  which  Constantine,  his 
mother,  and  Helena  built  at  Bethlehem  over  the 
place  of  Christ's  nativity,  as  he  thought,  and  which 
survives  to-day,  the  transept  is  conspicuous.  The 
plan  of  this  transept,  to  be  sure,  is  so  unusual  for 
Constantine's  time,  having  round  apsidal  ends,  that 
some  critics  have  concluded  that  it  must  date  from 
Justinian's;  but  the  structure  of  the  building  is 
said  to  be  evidently  of  one  date ;  its  style  is  so 
clearly  that  of  the  fourth  century,  and  so  absolute- 
ly not  that  of  the  sixth,  that  in  the  lack  of  any 
trustworthy  record  that  Justinian  ever  built  at 
Bethlehem,  and  with  the  support  of  the  history 
of  the  building,  which  is  unusually  continuous,  I 
think  we  must  conclude  with  De  Vogiie  that  this  is 
the  original  building.  It  is  a  five-aisled  basilica, 
divided  by  rows  of  columns  which  carry  woodeu 


THE  AGE  OF  CONSTANTINE  75 

architraves  supporting  the  clerestory  walls  and  the 
ceilings  of  the  aisles.  The  nave  has  now  an  open 
wooden  roof ;  probably  it  was  at  first  a  flat  coffered 
ceiling.  Nave  and  aisles  reappear,  as  it  were,  be- 
yond the  transept,  the  choir  ending  like  the  tran- 
sept arms  in  an  apse,  so  that  the  east  end  is  three 
arms  of  a  Greek  cross.  This  peculiarity  does  not 
appear  in  any  of  the  churches  built  by  Constantine 
in  Kome,  nor  in  any  of  those  which  were  modelled 
on  them.  It  is  more  than  possible  that  the  plan  of 
this  east  end,  which  is  essentially  three  apses  look- 
ing toward  a  common  centre,  instead  of  the  usual 
single  apse,  is  due  to  the  fact  that  here  the  focus  of 
interest  is  in  that  centre,  where  is  the  crypt  that 
contains  the  birthplace  of  Christ.  It  is  a  note- 
worthy peculiarity  of  its  design  that,  although  the 
arcade  had  become  fully  established,  and  though 
we  may  reasonably  suppose  it  to  have  mainly  super- 
seded the  colonnade  in  the  East,  here  it  is  refused, 
and  the  columns  carry  an  architrave. 

Constantine's  Roman  basilicas  differed  essen- 
tially from  this  at  Bethlehem  in  the  arrangement 
of  the  transept.  The  three  great  basilicas,  nearly 
contemporaneous,  of  St.  Peter,  St.  John  Lateran, 
and  St.  Paul  outside  the  walls  were  of  one  type — 
five-aisled,  with  large  transept,  and  single  east- 
ern apse  opening  from  the  middle  of  it.  They  had 
an  open  porch  across  the  front,  and  before  it  an 
atrium  surrounded  by  cloisters.    These  churches 


76 


THE  AGE  OF  CONSTANTINE 


fixed  what  may  be  called  the  Latin  type,  peculiar 
to  Kome  and  to  the  small  number  of  cities  which 
took  their  precedents  directly  from  her — except  for 
the  double  aisles,  which  were  rare — and  adhered  to 
in  Eome  herself,  with  all  that  conservatism  which  I 
have  ascribed  to  her,  long  after  the  progress  of 
Romanesque  architecture  in  Italy  and  elsewhere 
had  altogether  changed  the  type  of  churches  out- 
side of  her.  In  some  of  the  lesser  churches  the 
transept  was  omitted,  as  in  San  Clemente,  Sta. 
Maria  in  Cosmedin  and  Sta.  Croce  in  Gerusa- 
lemme.  The  first  of  these  three  gives  the  best  ex- 
ample that  remains  of  the  atrium  of  these  primi- 
tive basilicas.  Where  that  has  disappeared,  or  was 
from  the  beginning  omitted,  we  usually  find  a  sur- 
vival of  it  in  the  entrance  porch  opening  with  a 
colonnade  or  arcade  in  most  cases,  but  sometimes 
overbuilt  and  closed,  as  in  Sta.  Maria  Maggiore  and 
Sta.  Maria  in  Cosmedin,  and  serving  as  a  narthex. 

It  is  not  worth  while  to  dwell  here  on  the  details 
of  these  churches,  which  are  pretty  well  known  to 
architects,  but  I  wish  to  emphasize  two  points 
which  seem  to  me  most  characteristic,  and  which 
illustrate  more  than  others  the  pertinacity  with 
which  decadent  Rome  clung  to  her  own  ways,  and 
let  the  progress  of  the  world  go  by.  The  first  of 
these  is  the  adjustment  of  the  transept  to  the  body 
of  the  church,  and  is  the  thing  which  most  charac- 
teristically distinguishes  the  Latin  form  of  church 


TRE  AGE  OF  CONSTANTINE 


77 


or  the  Roman  form.  It  is  common  to  think  and 
speak  of  all  churches  with  transepts  as  cruciform, 
and  to  assume  that  the  cruciform  type  prevailed 
wherever  Christian  churches  were  built.  But  the 
more  precise  and  the  better  meaning  of  cruciform 
implies  two  members  that  mutually  intersect,  mak- 
ing four  arms  projecting  from  a  centre  which  is 
common  to  both.  In  this  sense  the  Latin  churches 
are  not  cruciform  at  all;  the  cruciform  church 
never  prevailed  in  Rome  till  the  Renaissance,  and 
I  have  not  been  able  to  discover  that  it  appeared 
there  at  all  till  the  Gothic  period.  In  the  cru- 
ciform mediaeval  church  the  nave  and  transept 
penetrated  each  other,  though  by  virtue  of  the  pre- 
dominating aspect  of  the  nave  and  the  uses  of 
the  choir,  which  occupied  the  eastern  arm  and 
the  crossing  together,  and  often  took  in  part  of  the 
nave,  the  crossing  came  to  appear  as  part  of  the 
long  aisle  of  the  church,  and  the  transept-ends  like 
twin  arms  added  to  a  continuous  body.  The  plan 
of  the  Latin  basilica  was  not  a  cross,  but  a  T,  the 
apse  being  a  mere  excrescence  on  the  transept. 
The  relation  of  the  two  parts  was  very  much  like 
the  head-house  and  train-house  of  a  modern  rail- 
way station.  The  transept  was  the  dominant 
member  of  the  building,  a  continuous  hall  against 
which  the  nave  and  aisle  abutted  and  stopped 
short,  and  which  further  asserted  its  dignity  by 
lifting  its  whole  floor  above  that  of  the  others. 


78  THE  AGE  OF  COXSTA^TINE 

This  architectural  exaltation  of  the  transept  was  a 
characteristic  of  the  Christian  basilica,  and  it  may 
well  be  that  it  belonged  to  great  basilicas  of  the 
East  which  have  disappeared.  The  early  Eastern 
churches  of  this  form  which  remain  to  instinct  us 
are  for  the  most  part  without  transept,  but  they  are 
all  comparatively  small,  and  naturally  would  vary, 
like  the  smaller  churches  of  Kome,  from  the  plan 
of  the  great  ones.  The  motive  of  the  transept  is 
obvious.  It  was  to  provide  an  ample  and  exalted 
position  from  which  a  great  number  of  privileged 
persons,  including  the  clergy,  and  doubtless  the 
superior  members  of  the  imperial  court,  who  could 
not  be  confounded  with  the  mass  of  the  faithful  in 
the  body  of  the  church,  might  share  or  watch  the 
services. 

The  architectural  mediator  between  the  transept 
and  nave  was  the  triumphal  arch.  It  is  best  seen 
in  St.  Paul  without  the  walls,  where  the  primitive 
arch  remains,  spared  by  the  fire  which  destroyed 
the  nave  early  in  this  century.  Here  its  impost  is 
an  entablature  which  is  borne  by  two  great  col- 
umns, much  higher  than  those  of  the  nave,  which 
stand  out  in  the  line  of  the  transept  wall.  Occa- 
sionally the  impost  is  continuous  with  the  entabla- 
ture or  main  string-course  of  the  nave,  as  in  Sta. 
Maria  Maggiore,  but  usually  the  arch  claims  supe- 
riority in  an  architecture  on  a  larger  scale  than  the 
rest,  appearing  only  as  a  decorative  feature  of  the 


THE  AGE  OF  CONSTANTINE 


79 


transept,  to  enhance  whose  dignity  is  its  chief  of- 
fice. This  disposition  of  the  church,  while  it  served 
its  purpose  by  exalting  and  in  a  way  secluding 
that  part  which  was  reserved  for  the  dignitaries, 
was  an  injury  to  the  architectural  composition.  It 
is  imperial  in  sentiment,  and  an  echo  of  it  still  sur- 
vives in  the  Greek  Church,  where  the  priests  do 
their  office  behind  a  screen,  the  Iconostasis,  while 
the  congregation  waits  in  the  nave.  I  say  an  injury 
to  the  architectural  composition,  for  the  nave,  the 
original  member,  and  far  the  more  important  in 
structure  and  effect,  is  degraded  into  a  vestibule 
for  the  transept,  which,  for  all  its  high  function 
and  the  concentration  of  adornment  about  the  cen- 
tre, is  in  truth  a  mere  cross-gallery.  It  is  quite 
inferior  in  expression  to  the  later  form  in  which 
the  nave  is  continued  through  to  the  apse,  and  the 
crossing  appears  as  its  natural  climax,  expanding 
upward  into  a  great  central  tower  as  in  the  fully 
developed  cruciform  church  of  the  Middle  Ages,  or 
into  a  dome  as  in  the  Kenaissance  church. 

But  this  was  the  type  which  Rome  preferred, 
and  to  which  she  held  with  that  conservatism  on 
which  I  have  dwelt  before.  From  her  example, 
apparently,  it  became  the  basis  of  that  type  which 
with  more  or  less  variation  is  often  called  the 
Italian  type,  in  which  the  transept  is  still  continu- 
ous, and  bordered  on  its  eastern  side  with  chapels 
or  apses,  of  which  the  middle  one  is  simply  a  little 


80 


THE  AGE  OF  CONSTANTINE 


more  important  than  the  rest.  The  type  prevailed, 
I  think,  in  provinces  which  were  subject  to  the 
immediate  influence  of  Eome,  or  were  more  or  less 
excluded  from  that  of  the  German  blood  which  was 
poured  into  Italy — in  the  States  of  the  Church,  in 
Tuscany,  and  Campania,  for  instance.  AVe  find  it 
in  the  great  churches  of  Florence,  where  the 
church  of  Sta.  Croce  is  a  conspicuous  instance ;  in 
Naples,  as  in  the  cathedral  of  San  Januarius,  and 
in  a  hundred  well-known  instances  throughout 
Italy ;  it  held  its  o\vn  till  the  invasion  of  Pointed 
Gothic,  and  even  reappears  in  some  churches  of 
the  Kenaissance. 

Kome  held  unswervingly  to  the  Latin  type  until 
the  time  of  the  middle  Kenaissance,  when,  under 
the  rule  of  Julius  II.  and  Leo  X.,  and  the  artists 
whom  they  called  about  her,  she  suddenly  flung 
away  her  conservatism,  and  became  for  the  time 
the  leader  of  progress,  though  it  was  progress  in 
the  revival  of  her  own  ancient  forms  of  art  and 
literature.  I  do  not  know  of  any  acknowledgment 
in  Rome  of  the  cruciform  type  before  this  period, 
unless  it  be  in  her  one  Gothic  church  of  Sta.  Maria 
sopra  Minerva.  When  in  her  lesser  churches  the 
transept  was  omitted,  she-kept  the  form  unimpaired 
in  other  respects.  To  be  sure,  in  the  small  church 
of  SS.  Yincenzo  ed  Anastasio  the  nave  is  carried 
through  the  transept,  and  the  apse  attached  to  it, 
but  even  here  the  cruciform  shape  is  not  suggested. 


THE  AGE  OF  CONSTANTINE 


81 


for  the  transept  arms,  lower  than  the  nave,  merely 
abut  against  it  behind  two  larger  arches  in  the 
continuous  arcade.  There  is  no  thought  of  inter- 
penetration  ;  moreover  the  whole  east  end,  includ- 
ing the  transept,  is  an  afterthought,  added  in  the 
fourteenth  century,  and  an  anomaly  which  belongs 
to  no  type  or  series  of  buildings.  It  would  be  in- 
teresting to  find  out  when  and  where  the  idea  first 
occurred  of  pushing  the  nave  through  the  transept, 
and  joining  it  to  the  apse.  The  suggestion  is  an 
obvious  one,  and  the  thing  once  done,  it  was  natu- 
ral to  push  both  nave  and  apse  beyond  the  farther 
transept  wall,  and  make  an  eastern  arm.  When 
the  triumphal  arch  at  the  entrance  of  the  transept 
and  that  where  the  apse  had  joined  it  were  re- 
tained, and  similar  arches  crossing  the  transept 
marked  the  continuation  of  the  nave,  the  cruciform 
church  was  complete.  The  crossing  became  part 
of  both  nave  and  transept,  but  the  need  or  the 
habit  of  extending  the  choir  into  and  even  beyond 
the  crossing  prevailed,  the  transept  arms  were  soon 
disused  in  the  celebration  of  the  service,  and  be- 
came subordinate  instead  of  principal,  while  the 
united  nave  and  choir  took  their  natural  predomi- 
nance, to  the  architectural  benefit  of  the  church. 
This  arrangement  was  sufficiently  foreshadowed 
in  those  smaller  churches  of  Rome  which  had  no 
transept,  of  which  San  Clemente  and  Sta.  Maria  in 
Cosmedin  are  the  best  known  examples.    In  the 


83 


THE  AGE  OF  CONSTANTIXE 


last  the  continuity  of  the  longitudinal  members  is 
emphasized  by  the  exceptional  fact  that  the  aisles 
as  well  as  the  nave  end  in  apses.  But  Borne  re- 
fused the  cruciform  plan. 

The  second  point  which  I  wish  to  emphasize, 
wherein  Eome  clung  to  her  classic  precedents,  is 
her  favor  for  the  entablature  rather  than  the  arch. 
We  have  seen  how  the  classic  Romans  subjugated 
the  arch,  which  was  their  own,  to  the  order,  which 
had  been  to  them  the  representative  of  what  was 
august  and  sacred,  while  the  arch  had  been  ser- 
vant of  all  work.  The  Greeks,  as  the  Syrian  build- 
ings show,  had  before  Constantine's  time  rehabil- 
itated the  arch  and  given  it  the  honor  that  suited 
its  kingly  qualities,  but  the  Romans  in  their  con- 
servatism seemed  to  look  upon  it  as  an  upstart, 
unworthy  of  the  place  it  had  won.  The  arcade 
was  far  cheaper  than  the  colonnade,  for  it  required 
fewer  columns.  It  was  easier  to  build,  for  it  was 
built  of  much  smaller  stones.  It  was  more  ser- 
viceable, for  it  favored  in  the  interior  that  open- 
ness which  was  one  great  advantage  of  the  basilican 
form  of  church.  Among  the  three  great  basilicas 
of  the  fourth  century,  in  that  which  was  the  most 
august,  if  not  the  most  venerable,  that  which  Con- 
stantino built  at  the  special  intercession  of  Voy)q 
Sylvester  to  Peter,  the  patron  saint  of  Rome  and 
head  of  the  Universal  Church,  the  nave  was  lined 
with  a  colonnade  and  the  arcades  were  remanded 


THE  AGE  OF  CONSTANTINE  83 

to  the  divisions  between  tlie  aisles.  The  other 
great  basilica  of  Sta.  Maria  Maggiore,  built  by 
Sylvester's  successor,  Liberius,  owes  its  striking 
effect  to  the  interminable  colonnades  with  their 
continuous  entablatures  that  border  the  nave,  and 
tempt  us  to  believe  tliat  the  Eomans  were  right 
if  they  ascribed  a  peculiar  solemnity  to  the  un- 
broken order.  The  colonnade  appears  even  in  the 
East  in  the  church  of  Helena  and  Constantine  at 
Bethlehem,  as  we  have  noticed ;  we  find  it  once  at 
Constantinople  in  the  oldest  church  there,  the  St. 
John  of  Studios,  built  in  the  fourth  century.  In 
Rome  it  reappears  at  intervals  in  the  more  memora- 
ble churches  all  the  way  to  the  thirteenth  century ; 
in  San  Lorenzo  fuori  le  mura,  where  it  is  pieced 
together  out  of  fragments  laboriously  gathered 
from  various  buildings ;  in  Sta.  Maria  in  Traste- 
vere,  in  Sta.  Prassede,  San  Martino  al  Monte  and 
others.  In  several  of  these  churches,  in  Sta.  Maria 
in  Trastevere  and  Sta.  Prassede,  for  instance,  re- 
lieving arches  are  built  in  the  frieze,  to  take  the 
weight  from  the  architrave,  and  hidden  by  the  dec- 
oration rather  than  give  the  arch  the  place  which 
its  constructive  importance  deserves.  While  the 
entablature  was  banished  from  the  rest  of  Eu- 
rope in  the  centuries  of  hei  depopulation  and  pov- 
erty, when  building  had  almost  entirely  stopped  in 
Borne,  her  preference  still  shows  itself  in  San  Lo- 
renzo in  the  sixth  century,  in  Sta.  Prassede  in  the 


84 


THE  AGE  OF  CONSTANTIXE 


ninth,  and  when  she  began  to  revive  in  the  twelfth, 
when  the  fully  developed  Romanesque  was  ready 
to  break  out  into  Gothic  outside  her  walls,  with  a 
new  prosperity  came  a  new  reversion  to  her  old 
love,  and  the  church  of  Sta.  Maria  in  Trastevere 
was  rebuilt  in  the  old  way,  and  the  porch  added 
to  the  front  of  San  Giorgio  in  Yelabro,  and  that 
built  across  the  front  of  Sta.  Maria  Maggiore  and 
since  covered  up  by  Fernando  Fuga,  but  shown  in 
an  illustration  quoted  in  Letarouilly's  book,  es- 
chewed the  arch  and  went  back  to  the  entablature. 
Even  the  sumptuous  cloisters  of  San  Paolo  fuori 
and  St.  John  Lateran  show  for  their  principal 
feature  above  their  graceful  arcades  the  revived 
entablature,  not  true  to  the  old  proportion,  but 
faithful  to  the  old  idea. 


Ill 

If  Augustus  boasted  that  he  had  found  E-ome  of 
brick  and  left  her  of  marble,  we  might  almost  as 
well  say  that  Constantino  found  an  architecture 
of  marble  and  left  one  of  brick.  The  temples  of 
Rome  had  been  mostly  of  marble  ;  the  early  Chris- 
tian churches  were  mere  brick  walls  roofed  in. 
Their  one  strictly  architectural  feature  was  the  ar- 
cading ;  an  exuberant  decoration  was  the  compen- 
sation for  their  architectural  poverty.  They  were 
really  churches  of  the  decorator  rather  than  of  the 


THE  AGE  OF  CONSTANTINE 


85 


arcliitect.  After  tlie  transfer  to  Constantinople, 
the  East  and  the  West  took  different  ways  in  art 
as  well  as  in  politics.  In  the  East  the  prosperity 
of  a  renewed  empire  kept  the  arts  alive,  and  out- 
side architecture  was  not  forgotten  ;  but  the  By- 
zantine style  quickly  supervened  and  the  basilicas 
disappeared.  In  Italy  there  was  for  some  centuries 
only  the  early  Christian.  There  the  art  of  sculpt- 
ure had  died  out,  and  that  of  stone-cutting  nearly 
so  before  Constantine's  reign.  But  Roman  brick- 
work had  been  abundant,  skilful,  and  varied. 
There  were  always  masons,  and  churches  could  be 
built  of  brick  and  rough  stone,  to  be  left  bare  out- 
side or  plainly  plastered  over.  So  they  were  built, 
so  we  find  them  in  Rome  and  Ravenna,  and  scat- 
tered over  Italy  in  other  places.  The  only  things 
that  the  stone-cutter  was  called  upon  to  do  were 
to  cut  the  arch- stones  for  the  arcading,  to  fit  to- 
gether the  pieces  of  architecture  and  other  old 
fragments  that  were  worked  in,  and  occasionally 
by  a  tour  de  force  to  supply  an  imitated  capital 
where  an  ancient  one  was  not  forthcoming  for  a 
stolen  shaft,  which  he  did  pitiably  enough.  Brick- 
building  became  again,  for  a  time,  as  it  had  been 
in  the  beginnings  of  Rome,  the  architecture  of 
Italy,  so  far  as  any  remained.  The  arches  of  the 
arcades  themselves  were  apt  to  be  simple  brick 
arches  encased  in  marble,  where  they  were  not 
covered  with  plaster  or  mosaic.    The  skill  of  the 


86 


THE  AGE  OF  CONSTANTINE 


bricklayer  even  in  that  day  of  decadence  was 
enough  for  what  was  asked  of  him  in  the  simply 
designed  churches,  or,  more  exactly,  perhaps,  the 
demands  were  limited  to  what  his  skill  could  fur- 
nish. In  Rome,  where,  except  outside  the  walls, 
the  city  was  closely  built,  and  churches  had  to  be 
accommodated  to  lots  where  they  were  hemmed  in 
on  sides  and  rear,  as  we  may  see  in  the  hopelessly 
unsymmetrical  plan  of  San  Giorgio  in  Velabro,  for 
instance,  the  exterior  was  of  little  account,  except 
in  buildings  that  are  meant  for  public  monuments. 
The  porches  and  the  overflow  of  the  inside  deco- 
ration upon  the  front  were  all  that  needed  atten- 
tion. That  abiding  reverence  for  the  Order  and 
for  the  lines  of  the  entablature  which  showed  it- 
self in  here  and  there  retaining  the  horizontal  lines 
of  the  entablature  within  I  have  already  noticed, 
and  it  deserves  keeping  in  mind,  for  we  shall  have 
to  refer  to  it  again  more  than  once.  But  for  the 
outside  the  monumental  aspect  was  renounced  in 
Rome,  whatever  the  reason  was,  and  the  brick 
walls  were,  it  would  appear,  simply  plastered  over. 
In  Ravenna,  where  the  most  important  group  of 
early  churches  is  preserved,  and  where  the  eastern 
influence  was  strong,  the  buildings  dating  from  the 
end  of  the  fifth  century  and  early  in  the  sixth,  that 
is,  nearly  two  centuries  later  than  the  first  great 
churches  of  Rome,  are  still  of  brick,  and  show  the 
lingering  traditions  of  Roman  brickwork,  while 


THE  AGE  OF  CONSTANTINE 


87 


there  are  in  them  many  things  that,  like  the  stone 
architecture  of  Syria  which  I  have  mentioned 
above,  are  distinctly  significant  anticipations  of 
the  peculiarities  of  the  Lombard  style.  They 
were  built  to  show  unplastered,  and  considerable 
skill  is  shown  in  the  effort  to  relieve  the  bare- 
ness of  the  walls.  We  find  in  them,  and  also  in 
some  nearly  contemporary  work  at  Eome,  careful- 
ly designed  brick  cornices,  with  corbel  tables  and 
ratchet-courses,  string-courses  of  moulded  bricks, 
and  round-arched  panels  in  which  the  windows  are 
enclosed,  separated  by  pilasters  running  up  from 
the  ground  in  the  Lombard  fashion. 

Building  having  thus  passed  into  the  hands  of 
the  bricklayers,  who  had  nothing  of  the  art  of  the 
classical  architect,  it  had  inevitably  to  lapse  away 
from  classical  forms.  These  were  stone  forms 
evolved  in  the  development  of  the  architecture  of 
the  beam ;  inasmuch  as  brick  beams  are  impos- 
sible, the  trabeated  details,  which  were  also  un- 
suited  to  brickwork,  disappeared  with  the  lintel. 
The  arch  had  already  been  emancipated  from  the 
order,  in  the  way  that  I  have  mentioned  in  the  es- 
say on  the  Grgeco-Koman  style.  In  the  desolation, 
poverty,  depopulation,  and  repeopling  that  present- 
ly fell  upon  Italy  the  art  of  architecture  passed 
away  from  her,  as  the  art  of  sculpture  had 
passed  away.  When,  some  centuries  after,  a  new 
architecture  was  needed,  there  was  no  one  to  pro- 


88 


THE  AGE  OF  CONSTANTIXE 


vide  it  but  tlie  untrained  artisan.  He  worked  it 
out  constructively,  as  those  who  come  to  art  from 
the  mechanical  side  have  always  done,  and  so  it 
started  to  all  intents  anew,  from  a  constructive 
beginning,  as  the  architecture  of  the  Greeks  had 
started  fifteen  hundred  years  before.  Its  begin- 
nings were  obscure  and  rough;  it  took  centuries 
to  bring  it  into  shape  again,  but  it  was  unfettered 
by  any  fixed  tradition.  A  new  constructive  prin- 
ciple, the  application  of  the  arch,  underlay  and 
directed  it.  Its  evolution  went  on  consistently 
for  another  seven  hundred  years  or  so  in  an  un- 
broken line  through  the  successive  forms  of  Ro- 
manesque and  Gothic,  till  there  came  in  the  fif- 
teenth century  a  sudden  transformation,  as  by  the 
shift  of  a  magic  lantern,  into  the  fashion  of  the 
Eenaissance. 

But  it  was  outside  of  Eome  that  these  changes 
went  on.  Within  her  the  classic  feeling  remained, 
and  though  in  her  helplessness  she  let  the  forms 
of  the  old  architecture  slip  away  from  her,  she 
took  no  further  share  in  the  new  than  to  accept 
that  one  innovation  of  Constantine,  the  basilican 
arcade.  As  we  look  back  over  her  history  we  see 
imaged  in  her  architecture  the  same  self-consist- 
ency, the  same  persistent  individuality  that  marks 
her  political  endurance.  All  other  cities  whoso 
architecture  records  their  history  show  that  they 
have  been  different  cities  at  difierent  times.  In 


THE  AOE  OF  CONSTANTINE 


89 


Rome  alone  that  adlierence  to  her  old  tradition 
which  held  her  to  a  straight  course  in  the  time  of 
Constantino  is  embodied  in  all  her  later  aspects 
except  for  the  vagaries  of  to-day.  She  is  the  one 
architecturally  harmonious  city  in  the  world,  as 
she  is  the  oldest.  She  has  clung  to  the  forms  of 
her  architecture  as  she  has  to  the  traditions  of  her 
supremacy,  and  both  are  witnesses  to  the  strange 
tenacity  which  has  enabled  her  to  assert  her 
^  primacy  through  all  ages,  in  spite  of  poverty,  neg- 
lect, humiliation,  and  all  that  would  degrade  an- 
other city.  She  is  to  us  a  symbol  of  stability, 
a  symbol  perhaps  of  indifference  to  that  progres- 
siveness  which  the  world  loves,  often  to  the  things 
that  mean  real  advance  in  the  condition  of  men, 
but  also  of  a  noble  endurance  of  time  and  disaster, 
of  a  steadfast  dignity  which  makes  the  nobility  of 
later  ages  seem  petty,  and  which  has  held  the 
garment  of  her  majesty  about  her — at  least  till  our 
day. 


EAKLY  CHKISTIAN  AECHITECTUKE 


I 

The  beginnings  of  Christian  architecture  are 
dark,  as  are  the  beginnings  of  every  architecture. 
Starting  in  obscurity  and  passing  her  first  years  in 
persecution,  the  Church  had  no  need  or  opportu- 
nity for  conspicuous  buildings.  But  when  she  be- 
gan to  prevail,  and  to  take  possession  of  the  world, 
her  growth  in  numbers  and  means  was  so  great 
that  the  buildings  which  had  served  her  at  first 
were  useless  to  her.  She  came,  moreover,  out  of 
no  such  period  of  primitive  civilization  as  the 
earlier  religions  were  born  in,  and  therefore  had 
no  art  which  grew  in  her  from  its  infancy,  no  mon- 
uments which  brought  down  with  them  the  rever- 
ence of  her  earliest  days,  like  the  primitive  temples 
of  Greece  and  Rome — like  the  Heraeum  of  Argos, 
for  instance,  which,  surviving  from  remotest  an- 
tiquity and  reverently  guarded,  was  only  renewed 
and  replaced  piece  by  piece  and  with  stone  for 
wood  as  it  fell  away  in  process  of  decay.  The  me- 
morials which  she  cherislied  were  the  tombs  of  her 

90 


EARLY  CHRISTIAN  ARCHITECTURE 


91 


martyrs,  and  it  was  not  till  the  day  of  her  pros- 
perity that  she  could  adorn  these  as  became  her 
veneration,  or  even  visibly  commemorate  them 
without  exposing  them  to  desecration.  "When  in 
the  fourth  century  after  Constantine's  Peace  of  the 
Church  and  the  public  conversion  of  the  Empire, 
she  found  the  wealth  of  cities  and  nations  in  her 
control,  she  fell  immediately  to  covering  the  world 
with  new  churches,  and  those  of  her  old  ones 
which  survived  were  remodelled  or  abandoned. 
So  we  are  left  with  no  examples  to  show  the  archi- 
tecture of  her  childhood.  She  had,  however,  no 
need  to  provide  an  art  of  her  own.  The  art  of  the 
world  had  become  hers  with  its  wealth.  It  was  a 
fully  developed  art,  abounding  in  forms  for  every 
use,  in  spite  of  the  decadence  which  had  already 
set  in.  The  impression  that  Christianity  had  to 
create  an  art,  or  even  forms  of  art,  and  did  so  de 
novo  is  a  wrong  one.  She  naturally  took  into  her 
service  what  was  ready  to  her  hand,  finding  it  suf- 
ficient for  her  present  needs,  selecting  and  com- 
bining the  elements  that  suited  her.  Only  as  she 
formed  new  habits,  and  new  wants  developed  with 
her  growth,  did  she  gradually  transform  and  renew 
the  arts  of  Eome  and  Greece. 

The  oldest  Christian  churches  that  we  know 
come  from  the  reign  of  Constantine  and  later. 
They  show  us  types  so  well  developed  and  so 
accepted  that  we  must  believe  them  to  be  the  out- 


92  EARLY  CHRISTIAX  ARCHITECTURE 

come  of  confirmed  habit.  The  main  types  are 
two,  round  churches  and  basilicas ;  these  two  fur- 
nished the  models  for  two  great  classes  of  churches 
that  have  persisted  through  many  centuries.  With 
the  round  churches  are  classed  not  only  the  cir- 
cular but  the  whole  group  of  what  the  Germans 
call  Central-kirchen — those  which  are  symmetri- 
cal about  a  geometric  centre,  whether  circular  in 
plan,  or  polygonal,  or  crosses  with  short  equal 
arms,  or  star-shaped.  They  are  in  great  variety, 
from  the  simple  circle  or  octagon  which  we  see  in 
the  tomb  of  Theodoric  or  the  old  baptisteries  to  the 
most  complicated  system  of  aisles,  niches,  chapels, 
and  arms  radiating  about  a  round  or  polygonal 
middle,  like  San  Stefano  Rotondo  at  Rome  or  San 
Vitale  at  Ravenna.  Those  buildings  were  in  no- 
Avise  suited  to  the  whole  ritual  of  the  Christian 
church,  nor  to  the  accommodation  of  the  great 
congregations  which  it  gathered ;  their  form  was 
adapted  to  the  consecration  and  preservation  of  a 
central  object — a  font,  or  the  tomb  of  a  potentate 
or  conspicuous  saint.  It  was  a  Roman  form,  famil- 
iar to  the  world  in  the  mausoleums  of  Augustus 
and  Hadrian,  the  tomb  of  Cecilia  Metella  and 
many  others,  a  form  which  in  imitation  of  the 
Romans  has  been  used  for  the  monuments  of  the 
great  from  their  day  to  ours,  in  many  lands  and  in 
many  styles.  It  was  peculiarly  suited  to  baptis- 
mal use,  so  that  this  round  type  has  been  com- 


£,ARLY  CHRISTIAN  ARCHITECTURE 


93 


mon  for  baptisteries  everywhere.  When  the  dome 
was  added  to  it,  it  assumed  a  monumental  shape 
which  has  made  it  attractive  in  all  ages  ;  it  became 
the  nucleus  of  the  prevailing  Byzantine  type, 
and  was  a  favorite  of  the  artists  of  the  Renais- 
sance. Constantine  himself  set  the  Christian  ex- 
ample when  he  built  a  round  church  over  the 
Holy  Sepulchre  at  Jerusalem,  where  he  joined 
with  it  the  other  great  type  of  Christian  church, 
the  basilican,  an  example  which  was  resumed  and 
followed  often  in  Europe  after  the  Crusaders  had 
made  the  West  familiar  with  the  Sepulchre,  especi- 
ally by  the  Knights  Templar,  whose  churches  were 
habitually  built  after  this  model.  But  the  type 
was  variable,  its  uses  were  special,  and  though  it 
was  kept  alive  for  monumental  purposes,  it  did  not 
establish  itself  as  a  ruling  type. 

The  second  type  develojDed  into  the  church 
which  was  called  basilican.  Much  labor  has  been 
spent  and  many  theories  have  been  evolved  in  try- 
ing to  find  an  origin  for  it.  Perhaps  all  the  theo- 
ries have  sinned  in  that  they  have  been  exclusive, 
prompted  by  that  familiar  inclination  which  men 
have  to  find  a  simple  cause  for  even  a  complicated 
result.  The  oldest,  long-accepted  theory  which 
Alberti  propounded,  guided  by  the  identity  of 
name,  is  that  the  Christian  basilica  is  only  the 
Roman  basilica — a  building  of  analogous  form — 
converted  or  copied  for  Christian  worship.  Lately 


94  EARLY  CHRISTIAN  ARCHITECTURE 

other  theories  have  been  brought  forward  :  that 
the  basilica  was  copied  or  developed  from  the 
Greek  Schola,  a  building  for  school  use,  or  from 
the  chambers  of  the  catacombs;  that  it  grew  di- 
rectly out  of  the  plan  of  the  Koman  house,  or  the 
Greek  house ;  that  it  was  a  building  planned 
afresh  to  suit  the  needs  of  Christian  worship. 
This  is  not  the  place  to  enter  into  such  controver- 
sies, which  demand  the  compass  of  a  volume  and 
a  long  array  of  arguments  and  citations,  but  it  is 
difficult  to  refrain  from  noticing  a  few  points. 
And  first,  what  was  a  basilica?  The  Christian 
basilica,  which  we  find  fully  shaped  during  Con- 
stantino's reign,  and  which  determined  the  form  of 
churches  for  hundreds  of  years  after,  was  an  ob- 
loug  building  divided  lengthwise  by  rows  of  col- 
umns into  aisles,  usually  three,  sometimes  five. 
The  middle  aisle,  or  nave,  was  higher  and  wider 
than  the  others,  and  furnished  most  of  the  light 
for  the  church  through  a  clerestory  of  windows 
set  in  its  long  walls  above  the  colonnades  and  the 
roofs  of  the  aisles.  It  was  entered  from  one  end 
through  doors,  one  for  each  aisle,  and  at  the  other 
end,  against  the  nave,  was  a  semicircular  apse  or 
bay,  lined  with  seats  for  the  clergy,  in  front  of 
which  was  the  altar.  Often  a  transept,  as  high  as 
the  nave  if  not  so  wide,  crossing  the  back  of  the 
church,  was  interposed  between  the  apse  and  the 
three  aisles,  which  opened  into  the  transept  each 


EARLY  CHRISTIAN  ARCHITECTURE  95 

by  a  great  arch ;  the  principal  arch,  at  the  end  of 
the  nave  and  opposite  the  apse,  being  called  in 
later  times  the  triumphal  arch.  Across  the  front 
of  the  church  and  over  the  entrance  doors  was 
built  an  open  porch  called  the  narthex,  resting  on 
columns.  Before  the  narthex  was  the  atrium,  an 
open  squared  court  built  round  with  colonnaded 
or  arcaded  galleries,  of  which  tha  narthex  made 
one  side,  and  entered  through  a  gateway  opposite 
it.  This  is  the  characteristic  type  of  early  Chris- 
tian churches  throughout  Europe,  and  inasmuch 
as  it  represents  the  first  architecture  of  the  Latin 
church,  it  is  convenient  to  call  it  the  Latin  type. 

The  type  is  well  known  to  us  in  the  great  basil- 
icas of  St.  Paul  outside  the  walls  and  Santa  Maria 
Maggiore,  and  approximately  in  the  smaller  ones 
of  San  Clemente  and  Santa  Maria  in  Cosmedin  in 
Eome,  in  the  two  great  basilicas  of  San  Apollinare 
at  Ravenna,  and  in  many  others ;  but  the  atrium, 
which  seems  to  have  been  universal,  at  least  in 
important  churches,  in  Rome  and  probably  in 
Italy,  though  not  common  in  the  East,  has  in  most 
cases  disappeared.  There  is  plausibility  in  all  the 
theories  of  its  origin  which  I  have  mentioned, 
but  no  close  correspondence  with  any  of  the  pro- 
totypes. "We  have  no  record  that  any  Roman 
basilica,  or  any  other,  was  ever  taken  for  Christian 
worship,  or  other  public  buildings,  except  in  un- 
usual cases  a  temple,  like  the  Pantheon  or  the 


96  EARLY  CHRISTIAN  ARCHITECTURE 

temple  of  Autoninus  and  Faustina.  The  Koman 
house,  the  example  which  has  been  most  lately 
pressed,  hardly  accounts  for  all  the  facts,  and 
there  seems  to  be  no  need  of  mooring  our  expla- 
nations to  that.  It  is  likely  that  the  basilican 
church,  like  every  other  type  of  building  that  has 
become  fixed  and  exemplary,  was  the  gradual  and 
tentative  development  from  wants  that  showed 
themselves  successively,  and  that  it  took  its  ideas 
wherever  it  found  them.  There  was  time  enough 
for  this ;  between  the  perfected  church  as  we  see 
it  in  Constantine's  reign  and  the  founding  of  the 
Christian  religion  some  three  centuries  had  inter- 
vened. The  Christians  had  passed  through  sea- 
sons of  persecution,  when  they  had  to  hide  their 
worship,  but  they  had  grown  very  numerous ;  they 
had  pervaded  the  civilized  world,  had  converted 
many  of  the  rich  and  even  of  the  powerful ;  they 
had  come  out  of  hiding;  in  the  East  especially 
they  formed  wealthy  and  important  communities. 
When  Constantine  declared  himself  a  Christian 
and  proclaimed  the  new  religion  as  that  of  the 
Empire,  he  did  not  join  himself  to  an  insignificant, 
inconspicuous,  unimportant  sect ;  he  took  the  side 
of  one  great  party  in  the  state,  a  party  that  had 
never  been  in  power,  and  had  lately  under  Diocle- 
tian been  the  prey  of  violent  and  desolating  per- 
secution from  the  party  which  was  in  power.  But 
it  was  a  rapidly  growing  party,  the  progressive 


EARLY  CHRISTIAN  ARCHITECTURE  97 

party,  which,  though  as  yet  it  had  no  share  in 
public  affairs,  apparently  contained  a  great  pro- 
portion of  the  best  activity  of  the  Empire,  at  least 
out  of  Rome,  and  was  coming  to  include,  it  is 
likely,  a  preponderating  influence  among  those 
lower  classes  to  whose  support,  next  to  that  of  the 
army,  the  emperors  had  learned  to  appeal.  It 
had  even  to  a  considerable  extent  gained  converts 
in  the  army  itself.  The  Christians  were  in  Con- 
stantine's  time  a  numerous  body,  an  important 
part  of  the  whole  people,  so  important  that  Ga- 
lerius  had  tried  to  depress  their  power  by  persecu- 
tion, not  for  the  sake  of  religion,  but  for  reasons 
of  state ;  and  they  must  have  been  so  before,  for 
such  a  body  does  not  grow  in  a  night.  If  Ave 
had  no  records  to  show  it,  we  should  have  to  be- 
lieve that  they  had  many  churches,  but  there  is 
abundant  record.  The  earliest  church  building 
of  which  history  tells  us  is  that  temple  of  the 
Christian  Church"  which,  as  the  Chronicle  of 
Edessa  declares,  was  destroyed  by  a  great  flood 
in  that  city  in  a.d.  201.  But  what  there  was  in 
Edessa  there  was,  doubtless,  in  many  other  cities 
of  equal  or  greater  importance  in  the  history  of 
the  Church.  Allusions  here  and  there  in  the  his- 
torians assure  us  that  wherever  the  pressure  of 
persecution  was  lifted  the  Christian  worship  came 
to  the  light,  and  the  churches  multiplied.  Before 
the  persecution  of  Diocletian,  we  are  told,  there 


98 


EARLY  CHRISTIAN  ARCHITECTURE 


were  in  Kome  itself  more  than  forty  Christian 
basilicas,  and  Eusebius  is  eloquent  over  not  only 
the  number,  but  the  size  and  splendor  of  those  in 
the  East,  bewailing  their  loss  in  the  time  of  perse- 
cution. Making  all  allowance  for  the  churchman's 
enthusiasm,  we  could  not  believe  that  he  was 
speaking  of  few  or  insignificant  buildings,  even  if 
we  could  believe  that  there  was  a  sudden  jump  to 
an  elaborate  and  complex  plan  sufficiently  organ- 
ized to  suit  for  centuries  the  wants  of  a  pompous 
ritual,  a  great  hierarchy,  and  enormous  congrega- 
tions of  every  degree. 


n 

From  the  point  of  view  of  art,  it  was  a  fortunate 
coincidence  that  Christianity  came  to  prevail  at  a 
moment  of  transition  in  architecture.  The  con- 
servatism of  Greece,  backed  by  the  artistic  con- 
servatism of  Rome,  had  begun  to  yield  to  rad- 
ical changes  of  detail  which  were  leading  the  way 
to  an  actual  metamorphosis  of  style.  The  setting 
of  the  arch  directly  upon  the  column  had  meant 
the  permanent  disruption  of  the  Order  which  had 
stood  for  the  whole  of  classic  architecture ;  and 
that  was  the  prelude  to  the  breaking  up  of  the 
classic  style.  How  or  just  where  the  breaking  up 
was  accomplished  it  is  hard  to  say.  The  ravage  of 
war  and  depopulation,  still  more  the  greater  ravage 


EARLY  CHRISTIAN  ARCHITECTURE 


99 


of  new  growth,  of  states  reformed,  of  prosperity  re- 
newed, and  cities  rebuilt,  liave  obliterated  most  of 
the  traces  of  the  transition.  It  is  only  in  cities 
that  have  been  suddenly  ruined,  like  Selinus  or 
Palmyra  or  Pompeii,  or  have  sunk  into  perpetual 
coma  like  some  of  the  mediaeval  towns  of  Italy 
and  Spain,  that  we  may  look  to  see  the  record  of 
their  early  building  preserved.  The  enormous 
spread  and  duration  of  the  Eastern  Empire,  the 
repeated  incursions  of  the  Saracenic  conquerors, 
the  shifting  mastery  of  opposite  rulers  and  prog- 
ress, the  long  decay  here,  the  repeated  revival 
there,  these  have  so  changed  the  face  of  the  whole 
East  that  only  in  neglected  corners  is  there  here 
and  there  a  remnant  to  hint  for  us  at  the  changes 
of  these  early  times.  One  thing  is  clear,  that  the 
transition  did  not  take  place  in  Rome,  nor  con- 
sequently in  those  regions  whose  progress  was 
directly  guided  by  her  influence,  that  is,  in  Italy. 
The  history  of  Eome,  the  phases  of  her  architect- 
ure, are  written  in  her  monuments  without  an  in- 
terruption. The  last  buildings  of  pagan  Rome  are 
unwaveringly  classic.  The  baths  of  Diocletian, 
the  basilica  (so  called)  of  Maxentius,  which  Con- 
stantine  finished  in  his  own  name,  the  triumphal 
arch  with  which  he  commemorated  his  triumph, 
in  spite  of  decadent  workmanship,  negligence  in 
proportion  and  detail,  are  the  full  embodiment  of 
classic  ideas,  with  no  trace  of  new  intention.  Be- 


100  EARLY  CHRISTIAN  ARCHITECTURE 

tween  them  and  his  Christian  buildings  there  is  an 
absolute  break,  a  complete  change  of  type.  The 
later  buildings  bear  no  witness  to  the  transitions 
through  which  the  change  was  accomplished.  Yet 
such  a  change  has  never  been  seen  in  the  history 
of  architecture  without  a  considerable  series  of  in- 
termediate steps,  except  in  some  modern  instances 
where  an  old  style  has  been  deliberately  revived 
by  copying.  The  one  sign  of  a  lingering  attach- 
ment to  the  old  ways  that  the  early  Christian 
churches  show  is  the  use  in  Rome  in  some  instances 
of  the  entablature  instead  of  the  arcade  to  carry 
the  walls  of  the  clerestory.  In  the  old  St.  Peter's, 
built  over  the  apostle's  grave  by  Constantine,  in 
Sta.  Maria  Maggiore,  built  a  quarter  of  a  century 
later  by  Liberius,  in  San  Lorenzo  outside  the  walls, 
and  in  some  churches  of  less  importance,  the  naves 
were  separated  from  the  aisles  by  an  order  with 
the  classical  entablature,  instead  of  the  arcade 
borne  directly  on  columns  which  became  from  the 
beginning  the  distinction  of  the  Christian  churches. 
This  variation,  which  typifies  the  unimpregnable 
conservatism  of  the  city  of  Rome,  is  the  sign  of  a 
certain  classic  instinct  that  was  never  eradicated 
from  her.  It  cropped  out  in  her  under  the  full 
swing  of  the  Middle  Ages  among  the  few  works 
of  restoration  or  new  building  that  were  imder- 
taken  in  her  season  of  poverty.  It  was  one  of 
the  links  in  the  chain  that  seemed  to  bind  her 


EARLY  CHRISTIAN  ARCHITECTURE  101 


permanently  to  her  imperial  greatness,  and  gave  a 
point  of  attachment  for  the  Renaissance  movement 
in  architecture  when  that  passed  over  to  her.  But 
it  was  peculiar  to  Rome  and  the  neighborhood  in 
the  range  of  her  immediate  influence.  There  are 
scarcely  any  examples  of  it  to  be  found  outside  this 
range  ;  one  is  in  the  basilica  of  the  Nativity  built 
at  Bethlehem  by  Constantine,  another  is  a  small 
church  in  one  of  the  towns  of  Central  Syria.  In 
Rome  itself,  except  for  this  one  almost  pathetic 
protest  against  the  utter  abandonment  of  the  glo- 
ries of  her  old  architecture,  the  triumph  of  the 
new  was  complete,  and  even  in  most  of  her  early 
churches  the  distinctive  arcade  took  its  place.  The 
other  great  basilicas  of  Constantine,  St.  John 
Lateran's  and  St.  Paul's  outside  the  walls,  rivals 
of  St.  Peter's,  were  built  with  arcades  in  the  new 
way,  and  so  were  the  most  of  the  one  or  two  hun- 
dreds of  churches  which  followed  them  in  the  next 
twelve  hundred  years. 

It  is  to  the  East  that  we  must  look  for  evidences 
of  the  progress  of  this  transformation.  All  prog- 
ress and  all  initiative  had  died  out  of  Rome  and 
Italy  long  before  Constantine's  accession.  All  the 
vigor  of  the  Empire  was  in  the  East,  and  Constan- 
tine only  followed  the  fact  when  he  transferred 
the  capital  to  that  quarter.  The  real  strength  of 
the  realm  lay  already  among  the  barbarians  which 
it  had  lately  conquered  and  absorbed,  and  whose 


102  EARLY  CmtlSTIAN  ARCHITECTURE 

kindred  were  soon  in  tlieir  turn  to  conquer  the 
Empire  and  rejuvenate  its  population  by  the  ad- 
mixture of  their  own  blood.  They  furnished  the 
armies  that  still  defended  it ;  they  had  for  a  cen- 
tury furnished  the  capable  men  among  its  emper- 
ors ;  its  generals  and  administrators  came  from 
them.  In  the  East,  which,  including  Greece,  had 
provided  most  of  the  architects  and  other  artists 
that  had  made  Rome  beautiful,  was  apparently  all 
the  spirit  of  invention  and  progress  that  trans- 
formed the  arts.  The  cities  of  the  East  have 
been  but  little  explored  by  archaeologists;  the 
unvisited  ruins  of  Asia  Minor  probably  cover  a 
vast  amount  of  instructive  remains.  Here  and 
there,  in  Baalbec,  Palmyra,  Antioch  for  instance, 
we  can  see  the  modifications  which  classical  ar- 
chitecture underwent  on  its  way  to  become  med- 
iseval. 

The  most  striking  examples  are  in  the  district 
called  the  Hauran  in  the  middle  of  Syria,  where  a 
whole  architecture  of  the  first  Christian  centuries 
has  been  surprised  within  a  few  years,  as  the  re- 
mains of  Pompeii  and  Herculaneum  were  in  the 
last  century.  Here,  in  and  near  a  valley  behind 
the  Lebanon  range,  was  a  series  of  small  towns 
which  had  been  overwhelmed,  laid  waste,  and  de- 
populated by  the  Arabs  in  the  first  years  of  the 
Mohammedan  conquests.  AYaste  and  depopulated 
they  have  remained  ever  since,  not  reoccupied, 


EARLY  CHRISTIAN' ARCHITECTURE  10 J 

and  so  not  destroyed,  unvisited  and  almost  un- 
known to  geographers.  At  the  time  when  they 
were  built  the  country  was  already  bare  of  tim- 
ber, and  the  buildings,  all  of  hard  stone  even  to 
floors  and  roofs,  doors  and  window-shutters,  have 
borne  the  wear  and  tear  of  climate  more  stoutly 
than  the  ruins  of  Egypt.  It  is  a  singular  and 
priceless  benefit  to  the  history  of  architecture  that 
habitually  their  dates,  which  extend  from  the 
second  to  the  seventh  century,  are  marked  upon 
them.  Here  we  see  houses,  squares,  public  build- 
ings, convents,  churches — whole  towns  grouped 
about  narrow  streets,  scarcely  injured  by  twelve 
centuries  of  neglect.  Their  carefully  wrought  and 
often  elaborate  architecture  shows  in  the  course 
of  five  centuries  a  range  of  innovation  that  aston- 
ishes us.  There  is  not  only  the  cardinal  change 
which  distinguishes  Diocletian's  palace,  the  set- 
ting of  the  arch  directly  on  the  column,  but  a 
score  of  other  inventions  which  we  had  been  wont 
to  ascribe  to  Byzantine  architecture  or  to  the  Ro- 
manesque builders  of  Italy  and  Germany — bal- 
conies, corbel-tables,  pilasters  running  up  into  ar- 
caded  cornices,  broad  arches  spanning  the  naves, 
or  carrying  clerestories  from  pier  to  pier,  domes 
set  upon  polygonal  or  square  substructures,  clus- 
tered piers,  even  the  shafted  and  arcaded  eaves- 
cornice  which  is  to  us  the  most  conspicuous  char- 
acteristic of  Lombard  architecture.    The  plans  of 


104  EARLY  CHRISTIAN  ARCHITECTURE 

the  churches,  and  apparently  of  some  of  the  pre- 
Christian  buildings,  are  those  of  Christian  basil- 
icas, and  the  atrium  itself,  which  seems  to  have 
been  mostly  banished  from  the  Eastern  churches, 
is  found  here.  We  are  almost  tempted  to  say 
that  there  was  nothing  new  in  Komanesque  archi- 
tecture, and  that  its  whole  development  was  pre- 
figured in  the  developments  from  classic  architect- 
ure which  we  find  in  this  provincial  region,  part  of 
the  kingdom  of  the  Seleucidae,  where  the  language 
was  Greek  and  the  whole  civilization  must  have 
been  of  the  same.  It  would  almost  seem  that  the 
inexhaustible  Greek,  who  developed  the  most  per- 
fect arts  within  their  limited  range  that  have  ever 
been  seen,  who  invented  and  shaped  classic  archi- 
tecture, who  provided  for  the  Eomans  the  great 
modification  of  it  that  they  required,  who  turned 
aside  to  create  his  own  Byzantine  version  of  the 
mediaeval,  furnishing  the  world  with  the  dome  that 
was  to  make  the  greatest  triumph  of  the  Renais- 
sance as  well,  had  forestalled  and  shaped  at  least 
the  outside  forms  of  the  whole  domain  of  Roman- 
esque builders. 

m 

That  the  Church  should  flourish  most  in  the 
most  progressive  parts  of  the  Empire  was  natural. 
The  East,  in  which  was  gathered  the  vitality  of 
the  civilized  world,  was  the  home  of  the  Church, 


EARLY  CHRISTIAN  ARCHITECTURE  105 

SO  far  as  slie  can  be  said  to  have  had  a  home  in  the 
world  at  that  time.  Up  to  the  fourth  century  her 
growth,  the  development  of  her  organization,  her 
literature  and  her  ritual,  her  advance  in  numbers 
and  importance,  were  mainly  in  the  East.  In  the 
course  of  the  second  century  there  was  a  great  in- 
crease in  the  complexity  of  her  administration  and 
in  the  formalism  of  her  worship.  The  modern  stu- 
dent is  surj)rised  to  see  how  early  her  hierarchy 
became  rigid  and  her  worship  hardened  into  elab- 
orate forms.  With  a  more  elaborate  ritual  must 
have  soon  come  the  need  of  special  provision  in 
her  buildings,  and  occasional  indications  in  her 
writings  argue  for  this.  The  first  assemblies  of 
Christians  had  been  scattered  and  independent; 
every  knot  of  friends  seems  to  have  worshipped 
separately.  But  the  insufficiency  of  this  was  soon 
felt.  In  the  second  half  of  the  first  century  the 
exhortations  of  Ignatius,  bishop  of  Antioch,  plead- 
ed urgently  for  union  in  worship  ;  before  the  end 
of  it  all  the  faithful,  in  Corinth  for  instance,  were 
united  in  one  congregation,  and  the  consolidation 
went  on  through  the  East.  Persecution,  when  it 
followed,  was  a  strong  consolidator.  By  the  third 
century  the  clergy  was  segregated  from  the  laity, 
the  faithful  were  ordered  in  classes,  the  ordinance 
of  the  religious  services  was  minutely  appointed. 
When  the  earliest  churches  come  to  our  notice 
they  are  adapted  to  their  complicated  ritual  with  a 


106  FAULT  VHRTSTTAN  ARCHITECTURE 

formality  that  smacks  of  imperial  authority.  The 
bishops  have  become  great  potentates  ;  the  clergy 
of  presbyters  and  deacons  is  a  highly  organized 
and  numerous  body ;  the  wealth  at  the  disposal  of 
the  Church  is  already  great.  With  the  favor  of 
Constantino  the  depressed  Koman  Church  entered 
suddenly  into  the  state  and  magnificence  that 
had  been  preparing  for  her  in  the  East.  Let  us 
hear  what  Eusebius  tells  us  of  the  basilica  which 
Bishop  Paulinus  built  in  Tyre  at  the  beginning  of 
the  fourth  century,  after  the  cessation  of  Diocle- 
tian's persecution,  but  a  dozen  years  before  the  first 
of  the  Constantinian  basilicas  was  built  in  Kome. 

The  bishop,  he  says,  enclosed  the  whole  site 
with  a  strong  encompassing  wall  for  protection's 
sake — like  the  peribolus  (that  is  the  word  he  uses) 
of  a  Greek  temple — and  through  a  broad  and  lofty 
outer  porch  (propylon)  which  faced  the  rising  sun 
he  gave  the  coming  visitor  a  glimpse  of  the  beauty 
within.  But  that  this  visitor  might  not  tread  the 
sanctuary  with  profane  and  unwashed  feet,  he  set 
apart  between  the  porch  and  the  church  an  ample 
fore-court,  girt  about  with  colonnades  under  a  slop- 
ing roof,  whose  pillars  were  joined  with  wooden 
railings  up  to  the  mid-height  of  a  man ;  and  the 
court  was  open  to  the  view  of  heaven,  to  the  sun- 
light, and  to  the  air.  In  the  midst  of  it,  before 
the  front  of  the  church,  was  a  fountain  with  a  full 
flow  of  water  for  the  washing  of  feet.    This  was  the 


EARLY  CHRfSTIAN  ARCHITECTURE  107 

first  station  for  those  who  entered,  both  a  fair 
adornment  of  the  church  and  a  seemly  place  for 
lingering  to  him  who  waited  for  entrance.  Then, 
surpassing  the  beauty  of  all  these  things,  he  ranged 
within  a  second  and  greater  porch  the  entrances  of 
the  church,  three  doors  in  line,  which  looked  again 
toward  the  rising  sun.  The  middle  door  he  made 
both  higher  and  broader  than  the  others,  and  he 
overlaid  it  with  plates  of  brass  and  with  carving, 
so  that  it  stood  like  a  queen,  with  a  handmaid  on 
either  side.  In  like  manner  he  arranged  within 
the  church  pillared  aisles  on  either  hand,  as  many 
as  the  doors,  and  above  them,  that  there  might  be 
abundant  light,  he  set  windows  in  order,  and  fitted 
them  with  comely  gratings  of  wood.  Of  rich  and 
precious  materials  he  built  the  kingly  house,  and 
in  the  generosity  of  his  sacrifice  he  spared  no  cost. 
"  Therefore,"  continues  Eusebius,  checking  him- 
self at  a  moment  when  his  testimony  would  have 
been  precious  to  us,  "  it  seems  to  me  needless  to 
recount  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  building,  its 
splendid  beauty,  its  majesty  beyond  the  reach  of 
words,  the  glorious  aspect  of  its  particulars,  its 
walls  that  soar  to  heaven  and  the  cedars  of  Leb- 
anon that  rest  upon  them."  After  he  had  so  fin- 
ished the  church,  the  account  goes  on,  Paulinus 
provided  it  with  lofty  seats  in  honor  of  the  clergy, 
and,  moreover,  with  benches  ranged  in  fitting  order 
for  the  congregation.    But,  above  all,  he  set  in  the 


108  EARLY  CnRISTTAN  ARCHITECTURE 

midst  of  it  the  most  holy  altar ;  and  the  place  of 
this,  tliat  it  might  not  be  invaded  by  the  crowd,  he 
enclosed  with  barriers  of  wood,  crowned  by  cun- 
ning carved  work,  wonderful  to  look  upon.  Even 
the  pavement  he  did  not  neglect,  but  adorned  it 
beautifully  with  rich  marbles.  Finally  he  gave 
heed  to  the  outside  of  the  church,  and  built  apses 
and  walls  against  its  sides  artfully  and  of  large 
size,  and  opened  them  with  doors  to  the  interior. 
Such  buildings,  he  says,  did  our  blessed  Solomon, 
the  builder  of  this  temple,  provide  for  those  who 
still  waited  for  the  purification  of  baptism.  The 
description  is  clear,  although  the  good  bishop  of 
Cjesarea  fails  us  at  some  points,  and  it  gives  us  the 
picture  of  the  complete  basilica  of  the  fourth  cen- 
tury, as  Constantine  repeated  it.  There  is  no  men- 
tion of  a  transept,  which  was  probably  lacking, 
since  it  was  not  usual  in  the  East,  nor  of  an  apse 
for  the  clergy,  which  doubtless  existed,  for  we 
know  of  no  church  without  it.  But  the  seats  for 
the  presbyters  which  lined  the  apse  are  described, 
as  well  as  those  for  the  congregation,  of  which  we 
read  little,  though  the  writings  of  the  church  show 
us  that  at  least  in  some  parts  it  was  the  habit  of 
the  congregations  to  listen  sitting  to  the  reading 
and  preaching ;  and  the  altar  railed  off  from  the 
crowd  of  worshippers  is  mentioned.  The  orienta- 
tion, it  will  be  seen,  is  clearly  that  of  the  classic 
temples,  and,  indeed,  of  the  temples  of  the  whole 


EARLY  CHRISTIAN  ARCHITECTURE  109 


East,  the  doors  being  open  to  tlie  sun  as  it  rose,  a 
custom  which,  after  some  vacillation,  the  church 
definitely  changed,  turning,  as  a  rule,  the  apse  and 
altar  toward  the  east,  so  that  the  whole  congrega- 
tion faced  in  that  direction.  The  basilica  which 
Constantine  adjoined  to  the  round  church  that  he 
built  over  the  Holy  Sepulchre  seems  also,  accord- 
ing to  Eusebius,  to  have  faced  the  east,  and  the 
same  may  be  said  of  the  three  great  basihcas  of 
Constantine's  time  in  Kome,  St.  John  Lateran,  St. 
Peter's,  and  St.  Paul's  outside  the  walls. 

We  see  then  that  when  Constantine  came  to 
build  churches  the  type  was  already  fixed :  there 
was  practically  nothing  left  to  do  in  shaping  it. 
The  one  new  thing  which  seems  to  have  been  done 
in  Rome  was  to  add  the  transept.  This,  as  well 
as  the  enormous  size  of  the  great  churches  there, 
was  clearly  due  to  the  multitude  of  believers  who 
had  to  be  provided  for,  and  the  great  increase  of 
the  number  of  the  clergy — bishops,  presbyters,  and 
deacons — who  must  have  their  own  place  plainly 
marked  off  from  the  congregation  and  subdivided 
into  three  orders,  for  which  the  apse  alone  no  lon- 
ger sufficed.  The  emperors  and  their  household, 
too,  could  not  be  confounded  with  the  mass  of 
the  worshippers,  and  there  must  be  room  apart 
reserved  for  them.^     The  three  great  churches 

'  It  had  not  taken  many  generations  to  lift  the  church  above 
that  level  of  brotherly  equality  that  belonged  to  it  under  the 


110  EARLY  CHRISTIAN  ARCHITECTURE 


were  of  extraordinary  size  because  the  Lateran 
basilica  was  the  special  church  of  the  bishop — it 
was  the  chapel  of  the  popes  so  long  as  the  Lateran 
was  their  residence,  that  is,  until  they  went  to 
Avignon — and  the  other  two  were  dedicated  to  the 
two  great  apostles  who  had  suffered  martyrdom  in 
Rome,  and  the  growing  cult  of  the  saints  made  the 
population  flock  to  their  shrines. 


IV 

I  have  said  that  the  evolution  of  the  basilica  was 
from  the  beginning  dictated  by  the  growth  of  the 
ritual.    The  atrium  was  the  place  of  gathering  and 

ministration  of  Peter  and  John  and  Paul.  The  apse  or  hemi- 
cycle  round  which  the  presbyters  sat  in  dignified  order  was  at 
first  set  up  above  the  body  of  the  church,  and  the  bishop's 
throne  was  high  above  the  rest.  When  the  church  became  im- 
perial, and  the  transept  was  added  to  make  room  for  more  digni- 
taries, that  too  was  exalted  over  the  mass  of  believers.  Its  front 
wall  and  the  triumphal  arch  which  opened  into  it,  were  decorated 
with  all  the  splendor  which  the  art  of  the  Empire  could  give.  It 
is  hardly  worth  while  to  inquire  too  curiously  into  the  relative 
shares  which  worldly  pomp  and  religious  reverence  had  in  this 
exaltation.  A  curious  poem  of  Gregory  of  Nazianzus,  bishop  of 
Constantinople  in  a.d.  380,  gives  a  characteristic  picture  of  the 
assembling  of  worshippers  in  his  own  church.  He  sees  himself, 
in  a  dream,  exalted  on  his  episcopal  throne,  while  the  ])roshy- 
tcrs  sit  ranged  about  him  on  either  side.  The  deacons  stand  in 
order  below ;  the  great  crowd  of  the  faitlif ul  swarms  like  bees 
against  the  barriers,  while  others  stream  in  behind  througli  the 
sacred  doors,  and  the  maiden  lambs  and  chaste  matrons  sit  lis- 
tening in  the  lofty  galleries. 


EARLY  CHRISTIAN  ARCHITECT UEE  111 


of  purifying,  the  anteroom  and  tlie  place  of  bap- 
tism. Tlie  unconYerted,  the  catechumens,  the  peni- 
tents, waited  there,  as  we  have  seen,  and  in  the 
narthex.  Within  the  churches  it  was  early  found 
desirable  to  separate  the  sexes.  The  fact  that  men 
and  women  attended  worship  together  in  crowds, 
especially  at  night,  that  they  celebrated  their  com- 
munions or  love-feasts  together  was  itself  an  of- 
fence, most  of  all  in  the  East,  where  the  segrega- 
tion of  women  was  traditional,  and  made  it  easy 
to  associate  the  new  religion  with  the  worship  of 
Venus  and  Cybele,  of  Astarte  and  Mithras.  One 
of  the  earliest  complaints  of  bigots  and  scoffers 
was  that  the  Christian  meetings  were  scenes  of 
debauchery.  A  well-known  letter  of  the  younger 
Pliny  to  Trajan  shows  how  these  suspicions  led  to 
his  interfering  with  these  meetings  by  the  em- 
peror's command,  while  yet  he  was  disposed  to 
justify  them.  The  importance  that  was  ascribed 
to  separating  the  sexes  is  shown  by  many  allusions 
to  it  in  the  writings  of  the  Church  fathers.  The 
edict  of  Licinius,  at  the  beginning  of  the  fourth 
century,  either  recognized  or  established  a  rule 
under  which  men  and  women  entered  at  separate 
doors,  where  doorkeepers  stood  ready  to  remand 
them  to  their  places.  The  assigning  of  one  side 
of  the  church  to  the  men  and  the  other  to  the 
women  corresponded  naturally  to  the  division  of 
the  buildings  into  aisles,  and  the  position  of  the 


112  EARLY  CHRISTTAN  ARCHITECTURE 

doors  ;  but  in  tlie  eastern  cliurches  a  severer  di- 
vision was  common,  the  women  being  confined  to 
an  upper  gallery  over  the  aisles,  which  was  called 
the  gyngeceum.  This  last  distribution,  which, 
perhaps,  would  hardly  suit  either  the  relative  num- 
ber or  the  temper  of  the  fairer  worshippers  in  our 
day,  was  adopted  in  many  places  in  the  West,  and 
Avas  maintained  in  conventual  churches  through 
the  Middle  Ages.  The  system  of  construction  to 
which  it  led,  of  building  the  aisles  in  two  stories, 
even  in  churches  which  Avere  non-monastic,  and  for 
general  uses,  appeared  in  various  churches  through- 
out Europe  down  into  the  thirteenth  century.  The 
cathedrals  of  Paris,  Laon,  Geneva,  and  Peter- 
borough, for  instance,  are  so  built. 

The  Church  had  inherited  from  the  Jews  its 
fondness  for  psalmody,  as  Avell  as  many  other  de- 
tails of  religious  observance.  Is  any  merry,  let 
him  sing  psalms,  says  the  apostle,  and  the  story 
of  the  early  Church  is  full  of  accounts  of  the  sing- 
ing of  the  Christians  in  their  Avorship.  By  the 
fourth  century  it  Avas  found  advisable  to  establish 
a  prophylactic  which  the  Church  has  maintained 
ever  since,  by  intrusting  the  psalmody  to  a  special 
body  of  trained  singers,  the  chorus  psallentium, 
for  Avhom  a  space  Avas  reserved,  not  among  the 
clergy,  but  at  the  end  of  the  nave  next  them,  and 
this  too  Avas  surrounded  by  a  banier.  The  bishop 
had  in  the  beginning  delivered  his  sermon  from 


EARLY  CHRISTIAN  ARCHITECTURE  113 

his  chair  at  the  back  of  the  apse,  ex  cathedra^  but 
as  the  churches  grew  larger,  and  one  obstacle  after 
another,  living  or  ritual,  was  interposed  between 
him  and  the  body  of  the  congregation,  this  became 
impracticable  ;  a  special  desk  or  pulpit  was  set  up 
against  the  barrier  of  the  chorus  on  one  side,  and 
another  opposite  for  the  lector's  reading  of  the 
Scriptures.  These  twin  desks,  the  ambones,  be- 
came an  essential  part  of  the  furniture  of  the 
churches,  and  were  singled  out  for  special  and 
elaborate  decoration,  as  many  examples  remind 
us.  After  the  musical  liturgy  was  remodelled  and 
schools  of  singers  established  in  the  West  by 
Gregory  I.,  the  singing  became  the  duty  of  the 
clergy,  especially  among  the  monks,  the  place  of 
the  chorus  was  included  within  the  clerical  pre- 
cinct, and  the  name  "choir"  came  to  cover  the 
whole  space  reserved  for  the  celebration  of  the 
service. 

As  the  worship  of  the  Church  grew  from  con- 
gregational into  ritual,  the  altar  naturally  came  to 
be  the  most  important  point  in  the  building.  At 
first  it  served  only  for  the  consecration  and  distri- 
bution of  the  elements  of  the  Holy  Supper.  In 
the  beginnings  of  the  Church  this  ceremony,  cel- 
ebrated at  night  as  the  passover  had  been,  and  in 
small  private  meetings,  was  not  a  mere  observance, 
but  an  actual  meal,  for  which  the  partakers  brought 
their  separate  contributions  of  bread  and  wine  to 


114  EARLY  CHRISTIAN  ARCHITECTURE 

be  consecrated  and  consumed  in  common.  When 
the  celebration  which,  if  we  must  believe  the  testi- 
mony of  the  apostle  Paul  as  well  as  that  of  outside 
heathen,  had  become  in  many  cases  an  abuse  and 
even  a  scandal,  was  narrowed  to  a  religious  com- 
memorative ceremony  and  attached  to  the  morning 
service  in  the  churches,  a  table  or  altar  was  needed 
on  which  the  elements  could  be  laid  and  conse- 
crated by  the  bishop  before  they  were  distributed 
by  the  deacons.  This  was  at  first  in  the  form  of  a 
table  for  more  common  uses,  a  slab  of  wood  borne 
on  four  or  more  pillars.  In  time  wood  was  ex- 
changed for  stone ;  but  till  about  the  fifth  century 
the  form  was  still  the  same.  Kefugees  who  took 
sanctuary  in  the  churches  would  creep  under  the 
altar  like  children,  and  cling  to  its  supports.  Pope 
Yigilius  in  one  of  his  encyclical  letters  in  the  fifth 
century  tells  of  taking  refuge  under  the  altar  of  St. 
Euphemia,  whence  he  was  dragged  out  by  the  feet, 
clinging  to  its  legs  with  such  tenacity  that  if  the 
surrounding  clergy  had  not  held  obstinately  to  the 
table  he  would  have  pulled  down  the  heavy  slab 
upon  himself — and  possibly  have  extinguished  his 
encyclicals  forever.  Indeed  the  absence  of  altars 
of  sacrifice  and  of  the  characteristics  of  ancient 
worship  was  a  reproach  among  the  heathen,  and 
Minutius  Felix  exclaims  :  "  Cur  nullas  aras  habent, 
templa  nulla,  nulla  nota  simulacra  ?  "  Why  have 
they  no  altars,  no  temples,  no  familiar  statues  ?  But 


EARLY  CHRISTIAN  ARCHITECTURE  115 

when  after  the  Peace  of  the  Church  the  cult  of 
saints  and  martyrs,  which  had  been  obscurely  car- 
ried on  in  the  catacombs  and  tombs,  grew  into 
great  public  observance,  and  churches  were  built 
over  the  graves  of  the  saints,  these  became  places 
of  pilgrimage  for  thousands,  and  it  was  important 
to  bring  the  sacred  remains  into  public  view.  As 
the  habit  of  martyrolatry  increased  more  and  more, 
and  bodies,  bones,  or  other  relics  became  a  neces- 
sity to  every  church,  it  became  the  habit  to  place 
them  under  the  altar,  which  was  then  boxed  in, 
and  became  a  monument  with  a  cavity  in  it  called 
the  Confessio,  and  a  window  in  front  through 
which  the  relics  could  be  seen  and  revered.  Al- 
tars yet  remain  that  have  the  transitional  form,  in 
which  the  enclosure  occupies  only  the  middle  of 
the  table,  and  the  slab  extends  beyond  it,  sup^ 
ported  by  legs  or  pillars  at  both  ends.  A  taber- 
nacle was  presently  built  over  it,  in  the  form  of  a 
roofed  canopy  supported  on  pillars,  called  a  cibo- 
rium,  or  afterward  in  Italy  a  baldacchino.  This 
suited  well  with  the  later  ritual  under  which  the 
communicating  became  formal  and  restricted,  and 
the  elements,  laid  upon  the  altar,  were  screened 
during  the  consecration  by  rich  curtains  drawn 
between  the  columns  of  the  ciborium.  The  altar 
with  its  canopy  thus  grew  into  an  edifice  within 
the  church ;  all  the  riches  and  all  the  ornamenta- 
tion which  the  Church  had  at  command  were  lav- 


116  EARLY  CHRISTIAN  ARCHITECTURE 

ished  on  it.  The  splendor  of  these  tabernacles  of 
the  early  churches  outdid  what  modern  churches 
have  to  show.  Costly  marbles  and  stones,  pillars 
of  silver,  plates  of  gold  and  enamel  studded  with 
precious  stones,  vessels  of  gold  and  silver,  silken 
curtains  wrought  with  gold  and  needle-work  and 
starred  with  jewels,  lavish  sculpture,  mosaic,  and 
painting,  gave  beauty  to  them.  The  historians  of 
the  Church  are  as  fond  as  the  modern  custode  of 
telling  the  number  of  pounds  of  silver  or  gold 
plate,  or  the  weight  of  columns  or  statues  that 
adorned  the  altars  of  this  or  that  famous  building. 
Thus  the  Liber  Pontificalis  records  that  Sixtus  III. 
adorned  the  Confessio  of  St.  Lawrence  with  col- 
umns of  porphyry,  and  a  grating  of  pure  silver 
weighing  fifty  pounds ;  the  silver  railing  above 
weighed  three  hundred  pounds,  the  canopy  over 
it  with  the  statue  of  St.  Lawrence,  two  hundred 
pounds.  There  were  whole  ciboriums  made  of 
beaten  silver,  as  in  Sta.  Sofia  at  Constantinople  by 
Justinian,  in  St.  John  Lateran  by  Sylvester,  as 
that  given  by  Honorius  to  San  Pancrazio  which 
weighed  one  hundred  and  eighty-seven  pounds,  and 
others.  There  still  remains  in  the  museum  at 
Peragia  a  silver  ciborium  taken  from  the  church 
of  San  Prospero,  and  the  silver-gilt  sculptured 
plates  of  the  altars  in  San  Ambrogio  at  Milan  and 
St.  Mark's  at  Venice  are  even  now  the  wonder  of 
travellers. 


EARLY  CHRISTIAN  ARCHITECTURE  117 


V 

It  has  been  a  commonplace  of  German  criticism 
to  say  that  while  Greek  architecture  was  the  archi- 
tecture of  the  exterior,  Gothic  or  Christian  was 
that  of  the  interior.  Though  the  saying  is  only 
remotely  true  of  Gothic,  it  is  characteristic  of  the 
early  Christian  basilica,  at  least  in  the  West.  The 
old  basilicas  of  Rome,  so  far  as  their  original  con- 
dition appears,  are  outwardly  no  more  than  barns. 
The  classical  temple  was  a  monument,  covering 
a  splendid  shrine ;  sacrifice  and  public  worship 
were  performed  in  front  of  it.  The  basilica  was  a 
hall  of  worship,  the  service  and  the  congregation 
were  within ;  its  exterior,  except  where  the  inside 
decoration  overflowed,  as  it  were,  retained  a  cer- 
tain correspondence  to  the  modest  obscurity  in 
which  the  Church  began.  We  have  seen  how 
sumptuous  its  interior  had  become  even  before 
the  time  of  Constantine,  what  lavish  decoration 
was  heaped  upon  its  central  feature,  the  altar  with 
its  ciborium.  The  interior  of  the  ancient  temple 
had  been  mostly  dark,  lighted  only  by  such  light 
as  came  through  the  open  door,  or  by  lamps.^ 
The  churches  received  a  flood  of  light  through 
their  clerestories,  and  contemporary  accounts  of 

'  Whether  we  hold  with  those  archaeologists  who  believe  in  a 
hypsethrum,  or  with  those  who  reject  it,  it  is  clear  that  the  great 
majority  of  temples  were  without  it. 


118  EARLY  CIIRISTTAN  ARCHITECTURE 

churches  shoAV  that  this  abundance  of  light  was 
greatly  valued,  dimmed  though  it  was  by  the 
screens  of  perforated  or  translucent  marble  with 
which  the  openings  were  filled,  and  for  which 
even  in  very  early  days  glass  was  often  substi- 
tuted. Artificial  light  was  also  abundantly  pro- 
vided. The  altar  and  ciborium  were  set  about 
with  candlesticks  and  overhung  by  lamps  ;^  and 
Venatius  Fortunatus,  the  poetical  bishop  of  Poi- 
tiers in  the  time  of  Gregory  the  Great,  writes 
sonorously,  Bright  glowed  the  very  priest  amid 
the  lamps : 

Inter  candelabro3  radiabat  et  ipse  sacerdos. 

The  priest,  as  we  know,  in  his  resplendent  vest- 
ments, stiff  with  embroidery  of  gold  and  shining 
with  gems,  was  by  no  means  the  least  radiant 
adornment  of  the  church. 

The  pervading  light  was  reinforced  by  the  color 
and  gilding  which  were  generously  distributed. 
The  timber  roofs  of  the  great  basilicas  were,  in 
many  cases  at  least,  screened  off  by  horizontal 
ceilings  of  wood,  and  these  were  apt  to  be  highly 
decorated.  Of  Constantine's  basilica  of  the  Holy 
Sepulchre,  Eusebius  says  that  the  ceiling  was  in- 

'  The  Liber  Pontificalis  mentions  a  great  chandelier  {farum) 
given  by  Hadrian  I.  to  St,  Peter's.  It  was  in  tlie  form  of  a 
cross,  hanging  before  the  presbyteriura,  and  held  tliirteen  hun- 
dred and  seventy  candles :  Habentem  caudelas  mille  trecentftS 
et  septuaginta. 


EARLY  CHRISTIAN  ARCHITECTURE  119 


tricately  combined  of  carved  panelling  spread  over 
the  whole  basilica  like  a  great  sea,  and  further, 
that  it  was  everywhere  overlaid  with  bright  gold, 
so  that  the  whole  temple  gleamed  as  if  in  a  sea  of 
light.  The  church  which  we  now  know  as  San 
Apollinare  Nuovo  in  Kavenna,  was  originally 
called,  from  the  splendor  of  its  ceiling,  San  Mar- 
tino  in  coelo  aureo.  But  the  characteristic  thing 
in  the  decoration  of  these  churches,  the  real  con- 
tribution which  the  first  Christian  centuries  made 
to  the  art  of  the  world,  was  its  mosaic.  Mosaic 
decoration  had  been  abundant  in  classic  times  and 
a  great  favorite  of  the  Bomans.  There  was  the 
opus  sectile  or  Alexandrine,  of  variously  colored 
marbles  cut  to  shape  and  fitted  together  in  orna- 
mental forms,  used  for  pavements  and  continued 
for  that  use  in  Christian  buildings.  There  was 
the  finer  mosaic  of  small  tesserae  of  marbles  and 
stones,  used  both  for  pavements  and  the  covering 
of  vaults  and  walls,  and  of  which  elaborate  pict- 
ures were  made,  like  the  famous  battle  of  Alex- 
ander, and  decorative  designs,  simple  or  compli- 
cated. There  was  even  a  certain  use  of  glass 
tesserae  for  small  ornamental  work;  we  see  it  in 
one  or  two  objects,  niches,  and  the  like,  preserved 
to  us  at  Pompeii,  and  familiar  to  all  travellers. 
The  Christians  took  up  this  last  kind,  made  of 
little  account  before,  and  rapidly,  almost  sud- 
denly, developed  out  of  it  a  great  system  of  deco- 


120.  EARLY  CHRISTIAN  ARCHITECTURE 

ration,  for  which  there  had  been  no  real  prece- 
dent, and  has  never  been  any  substitute.  They 
spread  it  in  a  vast  incrustation  over  whole  in- 
teriors. They  peopled  these  interiors  with  saints 
and  martyrs,  with  portraits  of  the  Saviour,  the 
evangelists,  and  apostles,  and  covered  them  with 
representations  of  all  religious  scenes,  historic, 
legendary,  and  apocalyptic. 

This  change  brought  a  complete  revolution  in 
the  colored  decoration  of  the  churches.  The  poly- 
chrome of  which  the  Komans  were  fond  had  been 
based  on  the  natural  colors  of  the  earth.  Their 
particolored  marble  mosaic  of  floors  and  walls,  re- 
peated in  sculptures,  busts,  even  statues,  of  mixed 
material  gave  a  scale  of  color  which  was  sober, 
neutral,  though  varied  and  of  considerable  range, 
easily  harmonized  in  virtue  of  the  quality  of  its 
tones.  Ancient  painted  decoration,  Egyptian, 
Greek,  and  Koman,  had  depended  on  the  colors  of 
earths  and  minerals,  colors,  like  those  of  later  fres- 
cos, which  could  be  safely  laid  on  plastered  walls, 
and  which  the  use  of  encaustic  did  not  heighten  into 
brilliancy.  Even  the  splendid  reds  to  which  we  are 
used  in  Pompeian  mural  painting  did  not  carry 
the  pitch  of  their  coloring  above  sobriety.  It  was 
their  highest  note,  a  deep,  powerful,  still  sober 
color,  to  which  all  the  other  tints  subordinated 
themselves,  in  dull  yellows,  browns,  grays,  gray- 
blues,  and  dull  greens,  set  off  by  much  black,  al- 


EARLY  CHRISTIAN  ARCHITECTURE  121 

ways  keeping  on  the  warm  side  of  the  scale,  and 
inclining  to  neutral  tones.  But  when  the  Christian 
decorators  turned  to  artificial  tesserae  with  glazed 
colors,  their  palette,  as  a  painter  might  call  it,  was 
absolutely  changed.  The  splendor  of  the  vitrified 
pigments  seems  to  have  roused  their  desire  for 
color  into  exuberant  activity.  Splendor  of  color 
had  been  the  strong  side  of  ancient  glass,  especially 
of  Egyptian,  as  countless  vessels  and  vases  in  our 
museums  show,  when  all  its  manufactures  were 
small  in  scale.  Many  early  writers  show  that  glass 
was  used  in  church  windows  commonly,  if  not 
generally.  Prudentius,  writing  about  a.d.  400,  com- 
pares the  windows  of  the  basilica  of  St.  Paul  to 
meadows  shining  with  spring  flowers.  The  pos- 
session of  such  brilliant  materials  inspired  the 
painters  to  key  up  their  decoration  to  the  highest 
pitch,  and  spread  it  over  the  whole  of  their  inte- 
riors. The  tone  was  shifted  to  the  other  end  of  the 
scale  of  hues,  and  splendid  harmonies  of  blue  and 
green  and  gold  set  off  with  other  colors  took  the 
place  of  the  duller  combinations  of  the  Romans. 
The  glazed  tesserae  gave  that  vibrating  play  of 
tone  which  has  been  the  delight  of  all  colorists, 
filling  with  life  and  vivacity  tints  that  without  it 
would  have  been  monotonous.  For  such  a  rivalry 
of  glowing  colors  gold  was  the  only  sufficient  me- 
diator, and  the  gilded  tesserae  were  used  with  the 
greatest  freedom.    The  power  and  harmony  with 


133  EARLY  CHRISTIAN  ARCHITECTURE 

which  those  old  decorators  used  their  prodigious 
palettes  astonishes  us.  The  backgrounds  which  at 
first  varied  between  deep  blue  and  gold  according 
to  the  treatment  of  the  subjects  which  were  put 
upon  them,  were  afterward  almost  always  of  gold ; 
the  walls  shone,  the  hollows  of  apses,  niches,  and 
vaults  gleamed  with  its  brilliant  reflections.  The 
decoration  was  naturally  concentrated  upon  the 
apse,  which  was  always  domed,  and  the  end  of  the 
nave  next  it,  the  triumphal  arch  and  its  neighbor- 
hood. The  lower  parts  of  the  walls  of  the  apses 
where  they  were  liable  to  blows  and  abrasion, 
up  to  the  level  of  the  arcades,  and  sometimes  the 
walls  up  to  the  vaults,  were  covered  with  marbles 
in  panels,  or  Alexandrine  mosaic.  San  Apollinare 
Nuovo  at  Kavenna,  the  cathedral  of  Parenzo,  Sta. 
Sofia  at  Constantinople,  and,  later,  St.  Mark's  of 
Venice,  are  conspicuous  examples  of  this,  as  well 
as  of  the  glory  of  the  mosaics  with  which  the 
domes,  vaults,  and  upper  walls  were  clothed. 
"Where  the  more  costly  mosaic  could  not  be  pro- 
vided, the  walls  and  roof  were  covered  with  paint- 
ings, and  these  were  apt  to  be  carried  through 
aisles  and  over  piers,  till  even  in  the  more  unpre- 
tending churches  the  whole  interiors  were  bright 
with  color  and  pictured  with  all  the  legends  the 
Church  had  to  tell.  The  decoration  overflowed  in 
many  cases  to  the  outside.  The  blank  walls  of  the 
exteriors  were  often  covered  with  paintings,  like 


EARLY  CHRISTIAN  ARCHITECTURE  123 


the  interiors;  the  fronts  of  the  most  important 
basilicas  at  least  had  their  adornment  in  mosaic. 
Exposure,  violence,  and  repairing  have  naturally 
done  away  with  most  of  this  outside  decoration, 
but  enough  remains  to  show  what  it  has  been. 
There  are  still  conspicuous  remnants  of  the  old 
mosaics  on  the  front  of  the  cathedral  of  Parenzo, 
and  we  are  told  that  the  original  basilicas  of  St. 
Peter  and  St.  Paul  were  decorated  in  the  same 
way.  Probably  it  was  common;  Sta.  Maria  in 
Trastevere  is  so  adorned  with  mosaics  of  the 
twelfth  century.  The  continuation  of  the  habit  in 
later  generations  is  seen  on  St.  Mark's  and  on  the 
cathedral  of  Orvieto.  The  superb  color  of  the 
early  mosaics  holds  its  own  in  the  face  of  all  that 
has  been  done  since.  We  admire  them  in  the 
apses  of  Sta.  Pudentiana  and  Sta.  Prassede  at 
Rome,  in  the  old  Baptistery  and  the  great  churches 
at  Eavenna. 

At  first  the  subjects  and  treatment  of  the  mosa- 
ics, like  those  of  Christian  sculpture,  were  hardly 
to  be  distinguished  from  the  classic.  The  oldest 
Christian  mosaics,  in  Sta.  Costanza  at  Rome,  are 
on  a  whitish  ground  like  the  old  Roman,  and 
wrought  in  light,  festive,  straggling  designs  of 
arabesques  of  vines,  among  which  cupids,  birds, 
and  animals  are  playing ;  in  the  Orthodox  Bap- 
tistery at  Ravenna  the  style  and  the  tone  are  still 
classic,  but  Christian  scenes,  ideas,  and  emblems 


134  EAUL  Y  CHRISTIAN  ARCHITECTURE 

prevail;  in  the  mausoleum  of  Galla  Placidia, 
where  the  deep  blue  dome  spangled  with  stars 
first  shows  that  representation  of  the  starry  sky 
that  decorators  have  ever  since  affected,  we  see  the 
whole  depth  and  fulness  of  color,  and  the  full 
illustration  of  Christian  faith.  Henceforth  all  the 
stories  of  the  mysteries  of  religion,  of  sacred  his- 
tory, miracle  and  martyrdom,  came  to  be  depicted 
in  the  churches,  and  the  painting  to  be  as  impor- 
tant as  the  building. 


'J 

<  ^ 

<  s 

S  on 


SANTA  MAEIA  MAGGIOEE 


One  August  night  about  the  year  355  or  360,  so 
the  legend  of  the  church  tells  us,  Liberius,  bishop 
of  Eome,  known  in  later  history  as  Pope  Liberius, 
was  visited  in  a  dream  by  the  Virgin  Mary,  who 
ordered  him  to  build  her  a  church  upon  a  spot 
which  he  should  discover  in  the  morning  marked 
by  a  covering  of  new-fallen  snow.  Early  the  next 
day  messengers  brought  the  wonderful  news  that 
fresh  snow,  fallen  in  the  summer  night,  had  cov- 
ered a  space  on  the  summit  of  the  Esquiline  Hill. 
Presently  a  wealthy  patrician,  of  whom  we  are  only 
told  that  his  name  was  John,  and  that  he  and  his 
wife  had  wished  to  dedicate  a  church  to  the  Vir- 
gin, came  to  announce  to  Liberius  a  vision  like  his 
own  and  his  desire  to  carry  out  the  Virgin's  com- 
mand. The  Pope  and  the  patrician  went  together 
to  the  place  of  the  miracle  and  there  in  the  surface 
of  the  snow  marked  out  at  once  the  plan  of  the 
basilica,  which,  in  memory  of  its  miraculous  ori- 
gin, came  afterward  to  be  called  the  church  of  St. 
Mary  of  the  Snows — Santa  Maria  ad  Nives.  It 
was  built  imder  the  authority  of  Liberius  but  at 

125 


rJ6  SANTA  MARIA  MAOGIORE 

the  0,0%^  of  John,  "  juxta  Libiae  Macellum,"  hard 
by  the  meat  market  of  Libia,  as  the  historians 
say,  on  the  site  of  the  private  basilica  of  one  Sici- 
ninus,  and  so  was  called  at  first  only  the  Basilica 
Sicinina.  After  the  death  of  Liberius  it  was  called 
the  Basilica  Liberiana,  which  is  still  its  official 
title,  for  the  story  of  the  miracle  and  the  name 
which  is  derived  from  it  were  not  in  common  cir- 
culation till  some  centuries  later.  The  church  so 
founded,  the  earliest  important  church  there  dedi- 
cated to  the  Virgin,  has  been  conspicuous  in  the 
history  of  Rome ;  it  passed  through  many  trans- 
formations and  a  variety  of  names  before  it  became 
universally  known  as  the  church  of  Santa  Maria 
Maggiore.  No  church  in  Eome,  after  the  Lateran 
and  St.  Peter's,  has  held  so  large  a  share  of  pubUc 
veneration,  has  been  more  honored  by  the  Catho- 
lic Church  herself,  or  so  splendidly  adorned  and 
maintained  to  this  day ;  perhaps  none  at  all  re- 
tains so  much  of  the  aspect  of  the  great  basilicas 
which  saw  the  early  triumph  of  the  Roman  Church. 

It  is  true  that  it  is  not  easy  to  say  how  much  of 
the  church  of  Liberius  is  to  be  seen  in  Sta.  Maria 
Maggiore  to-day,  and  we  can  more  safely  say  that 
it  still  shows  within,  in  its  chief  parts,  the  form 
which  it  had  after  its  restoration  by  Sixtus  III. 
eighty  years  later.  We  do  not  know  how  much  he 
altered  its  main  structure,  perhaps  not  greatly,  but 
we  may  believe  that  it  was  in  need  of  restoration 


SAJVTA  MARIA  MAOOIORE 


127 


when  we  consider  what  went  on  in  Kome  during 
the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries.  No  sooner,  for  in- 
stance, had  Liberius  died  in  366  than  it  suffered 
in  one  of  those  bitter  schisms  which  surprise  the 
reverent  inquirer  into  the  early  history  of  the 
Church. 

The  Athanasian  controversy  which  had  troubled 
the  pontificate  of  Liberius  was  renewed  in  the 
struggle  of  Damasus  and  Ursinus  for  his  vacant 
episcopal  chair.  This  led  to  a  factional  fight  so 
furious  that  the  Prefect  of  the  City,  instead  of 
quelling  it,  fled  outside  the  walls ;  and  when  the 
election  of  Damasus  was  verified,  his  party  attacked 
the  followers  of  Ursinus,  who  were  met  for  protest 
and  defiance  in  the  church  of  Liberius.  They  set 
fire  to  the  doors  of  the  church,  climbed  upon  the 
roof,  which  they  tore  open,  and  hurled  its  tiles 
down  upon  the  people  within.  At  the  end  of  the 
fight  one  hundred  and  thirty-seven  of  Ursinus's 
party  lay  dead  upon  the  floor  of  the  church.  In 
the  time  of  Sixtus  III.  it  was  the  Nestorian  con- 
troversy that  divided  the  Church  ;  and  when  that 
heresy  was  set  at  rest  by  the  council  of  Ephesus, 
which  declared  the  Virgin  to  be  the  mother  of  God 
— ^eoTOKO'^,  Deipara — Sixtus,  identifying  himself 
with  the  prevailing  doctrine,  determined  to  signal- 
ize it  by  restoring  the  basilica,  and  dedicated  it  to 
Sta.  Maria  Dei  Genetrix,  the  first,  as  I  have  said, 
and  the  greatest  of  the  churches  dedicated  to  her 


128 


SANTA  MARIA  MAO 010 RE 


in  Kome.  Among  the  four  early  basilicas  this  one 
is  singular,  the  only  one  which  has  single  aisles, 
the  aisles  being  double  in  St.  Peter's,  St.  Paul's, 
and  the  Lateran  church.  In  this,  no  doubt, 
Sixtus  preserved  the  early  form  of  the  church,  and 
also  in  the  round  apse  which  closes  the  end  of  the 
nave,  and  in  which  the  windows  were  cut  some 
centuries  later.  Whether  he  found  or  added  the 
small  transept,  which  subsequent  alterations  have 
as  it  were  obliterated  by  walling  off  the  arms  from 
the  choir,  ifc  is  not  easy  or  very  important  to  de- 
cide definitely.  We  may  remember,  however,  that 
all  the  great  Eoman  basilicas  of  the  fourth  and 
fifth  centuries  had  transepts,  unless  it  be  San 
Lorenzo  fuori  le  mura,  which  was  also  rebuilt  by 
Sixtus,  and  whose  original  form  is  very  much  dis- 
guised by  the  changes  it  has  gone  through.  I 
have  before  pointed  out  that  in  the  early  churches 
of  Rome  there  was  no  intersection  of  nave  and 
transept ;  but  that  the  transept  was  a  cross-wing 
against  which  the  nave  and  aisle  stopped  as  ab- 
ruptly as  against  a  dead  wall,  and  was  broken  only 
by  an  apse  set  opposite  the  triumphal  arch  that 
opened  into  the  nave,  and  occasionally  by  other 
apses  opposite  the  aisles.  The  cruciform  church 
of  the  Middle  Ages,  as  we  know,  was  developed 
pretty  early  in  Lombard  architecture,  and  in  a  sort 
in  Byzantine,  but  the  conservative  Romans  did  not 
soon  accept  it.    After  the  helpless  syncope  of  art 


SANTA  MARIA  MAO  G I  ORE 


129 


in  Kome  in  the  tenth  and  eleventh  centuries,  they 
imported  it  from  without,  with  the  other  forms  of 
mediaeval  art,  in  the  revival  of  the  twelfth  and 
thirteenth.  The  earlier  or  Eoman  form  has,  never- 
theless, been  known  in  ecclesiology  as  the  crux 
commissa^  meaning  the  T-shape,  in  distinction 
from  the  crux  immissa,  or  genuine  four-armed 
cross. 

We  may  fairly  suspect,  from  the  analogy  of  the 
other  important  churches  of  the  first  centuries 
of  Christendom,  that  Santa  Maria  Maggiore  had 
before  it  from  the  beginning  an  atrium  or  open 
court  surrounded  by  colonnades,  with  the  usual 
fountain  or  basin  for  ablutions  in  the  middle.  The 
dimensions  of  the  basilica  were  large.  The  nave^ 
two  hundred  and  thirty  feet  long  by  fifty-five  in 
clear  width,  is  as  ample  as  the  largest  in  the  great 
mediaeval  cathedrals,  though  not  so  lofty,  being 
only  some  sixty  feet  high.  "Whoever  enters  it  to- 
day sees  it  essentially  as  Sixtus  saw  it.  Its  multi- 
tudinous marble  columns,  said  to  have  been  taken 
from  the  temple  of  Juno  Lucina,  carry,  not  the 
arches  that  we  commonly  look  for,  but  a  straight 
entablature  whose  lines,  broken  only  once  on  each 
side  by  a  modern  arch,  lead  the  eye  away  down  to 
the  great  triumphal  arch  and  round  its  imposts. 
The  Ionic  order  is  of  classic  proportion  and  detail, 
the  entablature  rather  light,  and  the  frieze  decorated 
with  arabesques  in  mosaic.  Here  for  once  we  have 


130 


SANTA  MARIA  MAO  G I  QUE 


an  interior  of  classic  type  which,  loftiness  apart, 
more  than  competes  with  the  great  Gothic  interiors 
in  effect  of  multiplicity  and  far-reaching  perspec- 
tive. The  columns,  much  closer  spaced  than  arcades 
would  allow,  seem  countless  ;  the  long  lines  in  the 
entablature,  cornice,  and  coffered  ceiling,  and  in  the 
Alexandrine  pavement,  the  very  lowness  of  the 
nave,  all  help  to  give  a  marvellous  impression  of 
scale,  distance,  and  majesty.  The  only  dissonance 
in  this  harmony  is  the  interruption  of  the  entabla- 
ture by  the  modern  arches.  But  for  that  we  should 
have  here  the  one  unexampled  instance  of  a  church 
interior  purely  classic  in  design,  simple,  continu- 
ous, thoroughly  harmonious  and,  in  spite  of  its 
monotony,  unique  in  its  impressiveness. 

The  deliberate  retaining  of  the  entablature  in 
certain  of  the  most  important  buildings  of  Chris- 
tianized Kome  at  the  time  when  the  arch  was  el- 
bowing it  out  of  use  throughout  the  rest  of  the 
world,  is  a  singular  sign  of  the  conservatism  of 
Rome.  Even  in  the  eastern  empire,  of  which  we 
are  apt  to  think  as  the  embodiment  of  conserva- 
tism, we  find  almost  no  traces  of  the  use  of  the 
entablature  after  the  time  of  Diocletian.  But  in 
those  days  the  east  was  the  progi-essive  branch  of 
the  Empire  and  Eome  the  backward.  The  em- 
pire of  the  east,  founded  by  barbarians,  developed 
its  polity,  its  society,  and  its  arts  with  the  fresh- 
ness of  a  new  state,  and  in  the  northern  parts  of 


SANTA  MARIA  MAOOIORE 


131 


Italy  the  German  conquerors,  settling  themselves 
among  the  Italians,  gradually  renewed  the  popula- 
tion, transformed  its  habits,  and  in  time  reformed 
the  arts  which  their  inroads  had  nearly  destroyed. 
But  Kome  sat  apart,  uninfluenced  by  the  new  life 
that  was  stirring  about  her,  her  population  unre- 
newed and  graduall}^  wasting  under  oppression, 
violence,  pestilence,  and  famine.  Only  her  hier- 
archy gained  in  authority  and  wealth,  while  every- 
thing else  decayed  about  it.  Again  and  again  the 
floods  of  invasion  threatened  to  overwhelm  her ; 
now  and  then  they  surged  up  to  her  gates  and  fell 
back.  Four  times  her  enemies  burst  in  and  pil- 
laged her,  stripping  her  of  an  incredible  amount 
of  accumulated  wealth  ;  yet  they  did  not  fasten 
upon  her,  but  hastened  away  with  their  booty. 
The  awe  or  reverence  with  which  for  ages  she  had 
inspired  the  outside  world  had  twice  turned  back 
Alaric  before  he  finall}^  abased  her ;  and,  aided  by 
the  eloquence  and  venerable  bearing  of  Leo  the 
Great,  had  even  held  the  arrogant  and  savage 
Attila  at  a  distance.  It  would  seem  that  some- 
thing of  this  reverence  returned  upon  her  conquer- 
ors after  the  first  impulse  of  their  violence  was 
spent,  made  them  uneasy  within  their  walls,  and 
drove  them  to  leave  her  to  herself  in  her  humilia- 
tion. So  she  lived  in  virtual  isolation  through  the 
dark  ages,  as  Mecca  or  as  Jerusalem  lives  now. 
Pilgrims  flocked  to  her,  left  their  offerings  and 


132 


SANTA  MARIA  MAOGIORE 


went  away.  Her  pontiffs  gradually  extended  their 
spiritual  authority  throughout  Christendom,  rooted 
their  temporal  authority,  and  gathered  wealth  from 
all  the  world  into  her  shrines.  But  little  new 
blood  came  into  her  population  :  numbers,  char- 
acter, learning,  and  art  declined  among  them,  and 
like  all  decadent  communities  they  held  to  their 
conservatism.  Constantine  had  found  a  great  body 
of  Christians  in  Rome,  mostly,  it  is  true,  among 
the  lower  classes ;  and  though  his  imperial  pro- 
mulgation of  their  religion  made  a  great  change  in 
external  observance,  it  was  long  before  even  the 
ancient  worship  was  smothered  in  the  city,  longer 
before  the  upper  classes  ceased  to  be  secretly  de- 
voted to  their  paganism,  longer  still  before  the 
Roman  people  radically  changed  their  ways  of 
thinking  and  feeling.  For  centuries  their  old 
superstitions  clung  to  them ;  their  attachments  to 
their  old  institutions,  manners,  arts,  were  peren- 
nial. 

It  would  seem  that  the  older  and  consecrated 
form  of  architecture  was  preferred  b}^  the  early 
Roman  Christians  to  the  new ;  the  entablature  was 
more  in  honor  than  the  arch.  It  is  likely  that  when 
they  first  lined  their  naves  with  arcades  instead  of 
colonnades,  economy  and  ease  of  construction  were 
their  determining  motives.  Their  mechanical  skill 
had  already  deteriorated  and  it  was  easier  to  turn 
plain  arches  than  to  cut  entablatures.    When  they 


SANTA  MARIA  MAO  G I  ORE 


133 


had  an  excuse  to  plunder  a  heathen  building  they 
could  supply  themselves  not  only  with  columns, 
but  with  the  rest  of  the  order,  and  repeated  edicts 
of  the  later  emperors,  and  even  of  the  Goth  Theo- 
doric,  for  the  rescue  of  the  old  buildings  from  de- 
struction, show  that  the  reverence  of  the  people  for 
the  ancient  monuments  did  not  keep  pace  with 
their  attachment  to  the  ancient  forms.  It  would 
appear,  too,  that  Constantine  and  his  bishops  set 
the  example  of  destroying  the  old  for  the  building  of 
the  new,  for  there  are  few  early  churches  in  which 
the  conspicuous  parts  are  not  built  out  of  old  ma- 
terials. But  the  opportunities  for  the  despoiling 
of  old  buildings  were  not  unlimited,  and  while  col- 
umns could  be  stolen  from  distant  towns,  it  was 
not  so  easy  to  bring  whole  orders.  Columns  were 
indispensable,  but  architraves  and  cornices  were 
not.  So  while  it  is  apparent  that  the  greater  hon- 
or attached  in  Kome — and  in  Rome  only — to  the 
ancient  form,  we  find  the  use  divided  between  that 
and  the  arch.  In  the  old  basilica  of  St.  Peter's, 
pulled  down  at  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury by  Bramante  to  make  way  for  the  modern 
church,  and  in  the  round  church  of  San  Stefano, 
the  nave  was  lined  with  great  colonnades  bearing 
entablatures,  while  the  double  aisles  were  separated 
by  smaller  columns  with  arcades.  The  contempo- 
rary basilicas  of  St.  John  Lateran  and  St.  Paul's 
outside  the  walls  were  arcaded  throughout ;  our 


134 


SANTA  MARIA  MAO O TORE 


Sicinian  or  Liberian  basilica  sliowed  the  entabla- 
ture ;  so  did  somewhat  later  the  churches  of  San 
Lorenzo  without  the  walls,  Sta.  Maria  in  Traste- 
vere,  San  Crisogono,  San  Martino  ai  Monti,  and 
Sta.  Prassede,  while  in  the  lesser  churches  the 
arcade  was  usual. 

Above  the  order  the  walls  of  the  nave  have  lost 
something  of  their  old  and  probably  plainer  as- 
pect, each  alternate  clerestory  window  being  filled 
up  and  replaced  by  a  modem  painting,  while  an 
order  of  Corinthian  pilasters  set  between  them 
repeats  and  continues  the  lines  of  the  columns  be- 
low. But  the  square  panelled  ceiling,  with  deep 
coffers  and  carved  and  gilded  beams,  although 
added  at  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth  century, 
doubtless  renews  very  much  the  effect  of  the  orig- 
inal one,  while  the  upper  order  with  its  cornice 
and  frieze  is  at  least  harmonious  with  the  effect  of 
the  lower  part. 

The  most  characteristic  adornment  is  still  the 
series  of  mosaic  pictures  in  square  panels  not 
much  spoiled  by  later  restorations  with  which  Six- 
tus  filled  the  space  between  the  low^er  order  and 
the  clerestory,  leading  up  to  the  great  group  of  mo- 
saics that  surrounds  the  triumphal  arch.  These 
show  how  early  a  consistent  scheme  of  iconography 
was  arranged  for  the  decoration  of  the  church. 
The  mosaics  on  the  walls  of  the  nave  represent  in 
the  main  a  series  of  scenes  from  Old  Testament 


s 


o 
o 

<  u 


SANTA  MA  HI  A  MAO  01  ORE 


135 


history,  the  prophecies  and  forerunners  of  Christ. 
Those  about  the  arch  show  the  story  of  his  birth 
and  infancy — the  Annunciation,  the  Presentation, 
the  Adoration  of  the  Magi,  the  Massacre  of  the  In- 
nocents. They  are  among  the  most  interesting  in 
Rome,  as  they  are  among  the  earliest.  Late  clas- 
sic in  style,  they  yet  have  a  freedom  of  drawing 
and  invention  and  a  skill  in  execution  which  were 
lacking  in  the  mosaics  of  the  following  centuries. 
Over  the  arch  is  the  simple  inscription  "  Sixtus 
Episcopus  Plebi  Dei."  The  ambones  which  stood 
on  each  side  of  the  nave  near  the  choir,  and  the 
two  ciboria  that  flanked  the  entrance  to  the  choir 
are  gone  ;  the  baldacchino  that  stands  in  front  of 
the  arch  of  triumph  is  modern ;  a  modern  tomb  on 
each  side  of  the  entrance  closes  the  first  interco- 
lumniation  of  the  nave,  yet  the  interior  is  singu- 
larly harmonious.  The  warm  tones  of  the  marble 
columns,  tinged  by  age  and  by  the  smoke  of  innu- 
merable censers,  the  marble  pavement,  the  rich 
coloring  of  the  mosaics  and  paintings,  with  the 
quiet  tints  of  the  architectural  members,  enriched 
here  and  there  with  gilding,  the  whole  roofed  by 
the  gilded  beams  and  gray  panels  of  the  ceiling, 
add  a  sober  splendor  to  the  dignity  of  the  archi- 
tecture. 

The  gifts  which  Sixtus  III.  added  to  his  church 
illustrate  one  of  the  singular  phenomena  of  Eoman 
history — how,  even  after  the  pillage  of  the  Goths, 


136 


SANTA  MARIA  MAG 6 TORE 


and  wliile  the  decline  and  depletion  of  the  city 
were  steadily  going  on,  the  Church  kept  on  accu- 
mulating wealth,  repairing  her  losses.  Her  popu- 
lation was  wasted  with  want,  and  sometimes  at 
starvation's  door,  but  her  shrines  were  adorned 
with  a  luxury  which  sounds  fabulous  to  us.  We 
are  told  that  Sixtus  furnished  the  altar  of  Sta. 
Maria  with  a  scypus  or  chalice  of  gold  which 
weighed  fifty  pounds,  and  overlaid  it  with  three 
hundred  pounds  of  silver  plates;  a  silver  stag 
spouted  water  into  the  font,  or  the  basin  for  ablu- 
tions :  his  various  gifts  to  the  furniture  of  the 
altar,  says  the  Liber  Pontificalis,  amounted  to 
more  than  six  hundred  pounds  of  silver.  At  the 
same  time  the  Emperor  Yalentinian  gave  to  St. 
Peter's  a  golden  relief  representing  Christ  and  the 
twelve  apostles,  and  to  St.  John  Lateran  a  silver 
tabernacle.  Perhaps  it  is  not  strange  that  one 
barbarian  sacking  of  Rome  was  followed  by  an- 
other, that  if  the  Arian  Goths  had  respected  the 
orthodox  shrines,  the  Vandals  should  have  spared 
none,  but  loaded  themselves  alike  with  the  gilded 
tiles  of  the  temple  of  Jupiter,  the  spoils  from  the 
temple  of  Jerusalem,  and  the  furniture  of  the 
Christian  shrines,  or  that  St.  Jerome  should  de- 
claim against  the  luxuriousness  of  the  churches 
and  their  services  in  his  day. 

It  is  only  in  the  nave  that  the  original  character 
of  the  basilica  is  preserved.    The  tunnel-vaulted 


SANTA  MARIA  MAG  O I  ORE 


137 


aisles,  faced  with  Ionic  pilasters,  and  tlie  groups 
of  chapels  that  lined  them,  are  Renaissance ;  the 
main  apse  or  tribune,  with  its  pointed  windows  and 
mosaic,  speaks  chiefly  of  the  short  period  when 
the  Gothic  fashion  prevailed  at  Eome.  But  it  is 
seven  hundred  years  after  the  time  of  Sixtus  III. 
that  we  next  find  a  definite  account  of  important 
changes  in  the  church,  though  meanwhile  the  bell- 
tower  was  built  on  the  right  of  the  main  entrance, 
where,  added  to  in  the  thirteenth  century  and 
again  in  the  time  of  the  Renaissance,  it  now  lifts 
its  four  variously  arcaded  upper  stories  and  its 
pointed  roof  over  the  main  fa9ade — the  highest 
tower  in  Rome. 

Eugene  III.  found  time  during  his  troubled 
pontificate,  from  1145  to  1153,  in  spite  of  his 
struggles  with  his  republican  rebels,  to  restore  Sta. 
Maria  Maggiore  and  considerably  modify  it.  He 
built  a  new  front  with  an  open  portico  resting  on 
eight  coupled  columns  of  granite.  The  Romans, 
with  that  fondness  for  past  ways  which  I  have 
just  discussed,  reverted  again  during  the  later 
Romanesque  period  to  the  classic  entablature. 
It  is  certain  at  least  that  the  porches  added  to 
churches — San  Giorgio  in  Yelabro  and  San  Lo- 
renzo fuori  le  mura  and  some  others — are  built 
with  an  entablature  in  classic  form  instead  of  the 
arcades  which  were  elsewhere  universal  during 
that  period.    It  is  probable  that  none  of  these 


138 


SA2^TA  MART  A  MAG  G I  ORE 


porches  is  older  than  the  twelfth  century.  It  is 
also  true  that  but  for  some  bell-towers  of  Lombard 
aspect  and  some  one  or  two  old  arcaded  cloisters, 
and  the  later  apse  of  one  church,  there  would 
hardly  be  any  evidence  that  the  Lombard  Eoman- 
esque,  which  took  possession  of  the  north  of  Italy, 
ever  found  its  way  into  Eome.  An  old  print  cited 
by  Letarouilly  shows  that  the  portico  of  Eugene, 
like  the  porches  I  have  just  mentioned,  had  an 
entablature  and  not  an  arcade.  A  more  extraordi- 
nary thing,  which  does  show  the  influence  of  the 
contemporary  style  upon  the  revival  or  continua- 
tion of  the  old  one,  is  the  coupling  of  the  columns 
in  a  colonnade,  a  thing  unknown  in  ancient  art, 
hardly  to  be  found  in  the  Eenaissance,  and  looked 
upon  as  an  innovation  when  it  was  introduced  by 
Perrault  in  1665  in  his  famous  colonnade  of  the 
Louvre. 

In  truth,  during  the  period  of  most  rapid  de- 
velopment of  Romanesque  architecture,  the  elev- 
enth century  and  most  of  the  twelfth,  Eome,  im- 
poverished, unpeopled,  and  entirely  given  up  to 
the  evolution  of  her  church,  did  almost  no  build- 
ing of  which  we  have  record.  If  we  may  believe 
the  writers  of  a  somewhat  later  time,  she  had  sunk 
to  the  lowest  impotence  in  literature  and  art.  It 
is  likely  that  being  provided  with  churches  to  suit 
the  larger  population  of  earlier  days,  she  had  no 
occasion  to  build  them,  and  there  is  abundant 


SANTA  MARIA  MAO 01  ORE 


139 


evidence  tlicat  many  of  those  slie  had  were  allowed 
to  fall  to  dilapidation,  and  were  from  time  to  time 
rudely  and  hastily  restored  only  to  keep  them 
from  tumbling  to  pieces ;  or  the  favorite  church 
of  some  dignitary  was  enriched  by  a  small  addi- 
tion, or  adorned  with  mosaics  or  a  new  shrine. 
But  this  was  all.  Such  conditions  favored,  not 
progress,  but  conservatism  and  even  retrogression. 
The  porticos  which  I  have  mentioned  and  which 
are  the  characteristic  monuments,  perhaps  the 
only  ones,  of  Eoman  architecture  at  this  period, 
are  altogether  classic  in  general  form,  and  might 
easily  have  been  believed  by  their  builders  irre- 
proachably so  in  all  respects.  Yet  they  show  on 
examination  that  they  could  not  have  been  exe- 
cuted at  a  date  much  earlier  than  that  which  his- 
tory assigns  them.  The  ratio  of  the  columns  to 
their  load,  the  proportions,  and  in  some  degree 
the  form  of  the  details,  betray  the  influence,  very 
likely  then  unrecognized,  of  the  work  that  went  on 
outside  of  Eome.  They  give  evidence  of  a  sort  of 
revival  in  the  twelfth  century,  whose  rude  begin- 
ning shows  into  what  decadence  the  Eoman  archi- 
tecture had  fallen,  but  which  advanced  both  in 
design  and  in  mechanical  skill,  leading  up  to  the 
finished  work  of  the  Cosmati,  and  culminating  in 
the  cloisters  of  St.  John  Lateran  and  of  St.  Paul's, 
or  outside  of  Eome  in  the  porch  of  the  cathedral 
at  Civita  Castellana. 


140 


SANTA  MAUI  A  MAO  G I  ORE 


At  the  end  of  the  next  century,  abont  1290, 
Nicholas  IV.  rebuilt,  or  at  least  redecorated,  the 
apse  of  Sta.  Maria  Maggiore.  By  this  time  the 
Gothic  wave  had  overflowed  Italy,  and  even  Eome 
yielded  so  far  as  to  admit  the  pointed  arch. 
Pointed  windows  were  cut  in  the  apse,  which  are 
still  to  be  recognized  on  the  inside,  and  it  was 
covered  or  re-covered  with  mosaics.  These  had 
been  a  specialty  of  Rome  ever  since  they  were  in- 
vented, and  pictorial  mosaic  had  been  carefully 
fostered  by  the  Church.  It  had  sunk  with  the 
other  arts  in  the  ninth  and  tenth  centuries  and 
risen  with  them  in  the  twelfth.  Nicholas  marked 
his  short  reign  by  the  mosaics  with  which  he  lined 
the  apses  of  the  Lateran  and  Liberian  basilicas, 
the  finest  works  of  their  day.  Both  were  the 
signed  work  of  one  artist.  Jacobus  Torriti,  a  Fran- 
ciscan monk,  of  whom  only  these  works  are 
known,  but  who  is  not  to  be  confounded  with  the 
painter  of  the  same  name  to  whom  are  due  the 
earlier  mosaics  of  the  baptistery  at  Florence.  We 
may  guess  him  to  have  been  his  kinsman.  The 
central  composition  here  represents,  in  due  se- 
quence with  the  older  mosaics  of  the  nave  and  the 
triumphal  arch,  the  crowning  conception  of  the 
cult  of  the  Virgin — the  Incoronata.  Colossal  fig- 
ures of  Christ  and  the  Virgin  occupy  a  great  disc 
on  the  back  of  the  dome.  They  are  seated  together 
on  a  throne,  his  hand  still  raised  to  the  crown 


SANTA  MARIA  MAGQIOTIB 


141 


which  he  has  just  set  upon  her  head,  and  are  di- 
vided by  a  border  of  stars  from  the  rest  of  the 
composition.  About  them  crowd  ranks  of  angels, 
behind  whom  modestly  kneel  on  either  side  Nicho- 
las and  Cardinal  Colonna,  who  shared  the  cost  of 
the  decoration  with  him,  overtopped  by  the  tower- 
ing figures  of  the  patron  saints  of  Rome,  and  of 
the  two  Johns,  the  Baptist  and  the  Evangelist, 
and  behiud  these  again  the  newly  canonized  saints, 
Francis  of  Assisi  and  Anthony  of  Padua.  Beneath 
is  the  inscription,  more  or  less  abbreviated : 

MARIA  VIRGO  ASSUMPTA  EST  AD  ETHERIUM 
THALAMUM  IN  QUO  REX  REGUM  STELLATO 
SEDIT  SOLIO 

and  below,  this : 

EXALTATA  EST  SANCTA  DEI  GENETRIX  SUPER 
CHOROS  ANGELORUM  AD  COELESTIA  REGNA. 

The  mosaic  is  remarkable  for  various  reasons. 
It  marks,  as  I  have  said,  the  culmination  of  hom- 
age to  the  Virgin,  and  is  perhaps  the  earliest  rep- 
resentation of  this  conception  that  exists.  It  is 
interesting  to  compare  it  with  the  corresponding 
mosaic,  a  century  and  a  half  older,  in  the  dome  of 
the  apse  of  the  other  great  early  basilica  dedicated 
to  the  Virgin — Sta.  Maria  in  Trastevere.  There 
again  Christ  and  his  mother  are  enthroned  side  by 
side;  but  the  son  sits  with  his  arm  about  her 
shoulder,  and  with  no  emphasis  of  the  crown,  as 


142 


SANTA  MARIA  MAG  G I  ORE 


if  the  enthronement  were  the  event  portrayed,  and 
the  crown  simply  a  part  of  the  costume  supplied 
by  the  painter.  The  mosaic  of  Sta.  Maria  Maggi- 
ore  shows  the  advance  in  design  and  execution 
due  to  the  interval.  From  these  figures  the  classic 
attitudes  have  entirely  disappeared,  though  some- 
thing of  classic  breadth  still  lingers  in  the  dra- 
peries, but  the  upper  part  of  the  conch  or  dome  is 
occupied  by  arabesques  on  a  large  scale  singularly 
classic  in  design.  It  is  easy  to  conjecture  that 
the  enormous  acanthus  leaves  from  which  they 
spring,  and  the  dense  reversing  coils  of  heavy  fo- 
liage, in  which  figures  of  birds  are  enveloped,  are 
parts  of  the  older  decoration  of  the  apse  preserved 
from  the  fourth  or  fifth  century,  while  the  borders 
of  the  dome  and  of  the  pointed  windows,  though 
still  composed  of  classic  motives,  are  distinctly 
mediaeval  in  scale  and  treatment. 

Of  like  character  with  the  mosaics  of  the  apse, 
and  almost  the  same  date,  are  those  which  were 
added  at  the  end  of  the  thirteenth  century  to  the 
old  front  above  the  portico  and  fortunately  pre- 
served when  the  front  was  remodelled  and  the  pres- 
ent loggia  built  over  them.  They  represent  in  a 
broad  upper  band  great  figures  of  Christ  enthroned 
with  the  Virgin  and  saints  on  each  side,  and  below 
these  four  characteristic  scenes,  framed  in  Italian 
Gothic  architecture  of  the  thirteenth  century,  tell- 
ing with  great  animation  the  story  of  the  founda- 


SANTA  MARIA  MAO  G I  ORE 


143 


tion  of  the  clmrcli — the  vision  of  Liberins  and 
that  of  Jolm  the  patrician,  the  reception  of  John 
by  the  pope,  and  their  identification  of  the  site, 
under  an  abundant  but  circumscribed  snow-storm 
sent  down  by  Christ  and  the  Virgin  enclosed  in  an 
aureole  above.  The  upper  band  of  mosaics  is 
signed  by  Philippo  Rusuti,  of  whom  again  only 
this  work  is  known  ;  the  lower  ones  are  attributed 
by  Vasari  to  Gaddo  Gaddi,  who  also,  it  is  said, 
added  a  range  of  small  mosaics  below  those  of  the 
conch  of  the  apse.  These  are  all  contributions  by 
the  cardinals  Jacopo  and  Pietro  Colonna,  of  a 
family  which  cherished  this  church  and  much 
adorned  it  in  later  days. 

These  are  the  last  considerable  changes  in  the 
church  itself  of  which  we  have  record  until  the 
days  of  the  Renaissance.  Within  a  dozen  years— 
in  1309 — began  the  Babylonian  exile,  as  it  has 
been  called,  of  the  popes  to  Avignon  under  Clem- 
ent Y.  Seventy  years  later  when  Gregory  XI. 
brought  back  the  papacy  to  Rome,  he  rebuilt  or 
built  up  the  bell-tower  of  which  I  have  spoken, 
and  the  upper  stories  which  he  added,  with  round 
arched  arcades  above  pointed  ones,  may  count  as  a 
symbol  of  the  brevity  and  instability  of  Gothic 
influence  upon  the  architecture  of  Rome.  The 
great  churches  of  Rome  seem  to  have  fallen  into 
neglect  and  dilapidation  during  the  exile,  and  to 
have  but  slowly  recovered.    It  is  a  curious  coinci- 


144 


SANTA  MARIA  MAG  Q I  ORE 


dence  that  the  three  popes  who  since  the  establish- 
ment of  the  Church  by  Con stan tine  have  at  long 
intervals  borne  the  name  of  Sixtus  are  all  asso- 
ciated with  this  basilica.  The  next  we  hear  of  it 
is  that  a  hundred  years  after  Gregory  XI.,  the 
magnificent  Sixtus  IV.  of  unsavory  history,  build- 
er of  the  Ponte  San  Sisto  and  the  famous  Sistine 
Chapel  of  the  Vatican,  adorned  the  church  with 
splendid  furnishings,  of  which  perhaps  the  only 
remains  are  the  four  columns  of  porphj^ry  that  to- 
day support  the  modern  baldacchino  over  the  high 
altar.  He  added,  through  his  French  cardinal 
D'Estouteville,  arch -priest  of  the  church,  a  chapel 
which  was  probably  among  several  that  have  been 
swept  away  to  make  room  for  later  and  more 
splendid  additions. 

At  the  end  of  the  fifteenth  century,  while  Co- 
lumbus was  discovering  America,  Alexander  VI. — 
the  second  and  last  pope  of  the  Borgia  family  and 
father  of  that  precious  pair,  CiBsar  and  Lucrezia — 
made  Giuliano  Sangallo  replace  the  ceiling  of  the 
nave  with  that  which  we  have  described.  History 
is  full  of  unexpected  juxtapositions,  and  one  of 
these  surprises  us  when  we  are  told  that  the  first 
gold  brought  from  the  New  World,  given  to  the 
church  by  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  is  spread  over 
the  gilt  beams  of  this  ceiling.  Sixty  years  later 
Michelangelo  began,  for  Cardinal  Guido  Ascanio 
Sforza,  the  chapel  on  the  right  of  the  nave,  still 


SANTA  MARIA  MAO  O I  ORE 


145 


known  as  the  Sforza  chapel.  He  and  the  cardinal 
died  in  the  same  year,  1564,  and  the  chapel  was 
carried  out  for  Cardinal  Alexander,  brother  of  the 
first,  by  Giacomo  della  Porta.  The  design  of  the 
chapel  was  modified,  it  is  said,  in  the  after  exe- 
cution, but  the  singular  and  extravagant  plan 
is  probably  due  to  Michelangelo,  whose  unruly 
genius  tended,  in  architecture,  to  the  far-fetched 
and  the  bizarre.  It  had  an  enriched  fa9ade  toward 
the  nave,  but  this  was  taken  down,  probably  with 
advantage  to  the  nave,  in  the  later  restoration 
under  Benedict  XIV. 

Of  the  other  chapels  that  line  the  aisles  two  are 
of  special  importance — the  Capella  del  Fresepe  and 
the  Borghese  chapel,  the  chapels  of  Sixtus  Y.  and 
Paul  V.  These  twin  chapels  stand  on  opposite 
sides  of  the  nave,  and  though  to  the  vast  basilica 
they  are  but  side  chapels,  they  are  on  a  scale  that 
would  do  for  churches  in  these  degenerate  days 
of  scattered  worship.  They  are  Greek  crosses  in 
plan,  measuring  some  seventy-five  feet  each  way 
in  size,  the  centres  covered  with  domes  of  about 
forty  feet  span.  They  are  about  sixty-five  feet 
high  to  the  crown  of  the  vaults  which  cover  the 
arms,  one  hundred  and  thirty  feet  to  the  top  of  the 
domes  inside,  and  one  hundred  and  sixty  feet  to 
the  summit  of  the  lanterns  without.  Though  built 
twenty-five  years  apart,  and  by  different  architects, 
they  are  alike  in  design,  with  some  differences  of 


146 


SANTA  MARIA  MAO  G I  ORE 


detail.  A  great  order  of  Corinthian  pilasters,  half 
as  liigh  again  as  the  main  order  of  the  nave,  sur- 
rounds each  of  them  within,  carrying  the  vaults 
that  cover  the  arms  of  the  cross,  and  the  penden- 
tives  which  bear  the  domes.  It  was  to  give  im- 
portance to  the  approach  to  these  chapels  that  the 
colonnades  each  side  the  nave  were  broken,  the  en- 
tablatures interrupted,  and  two  columns  on  each 
side  spread  apart  and  set  close  against  their  neigh- 
bors ^  so  as  to  open  two  broad  arches  rising  to  the 
level  of  the  clerestory  window-sills.  This  is,  as  I 
have  said,  the  only  serious  injury  done  to  the  orig- 
inal design  of  the  nave  ;  and  it  is  serious,  for  it  is 
to  the  grand  lines  of  the  entablatures,  continued 
even  round  the  imposts  of  the  triumphal  arch,  and 
to  its  serried  ranks  of  columns,  that  the  nave  owes 
its  majesty.  These  are  broken  with  an  abruptness 
that  shocks  the  eye,  and  by  arches  which  yet  look 
insignificant  beside  the  triumphal  arch. 

The  two  chapels  are  finished  inside  with  an 
amazing  sumptuousness  of  varied  marbles,  scul23t- 
ure,  gilding,  and  painting ;  their  desjj^n  and  pro- 
portion are  elegant.  The  earlier  one,  the  Sixtine, 
was  begun  by  Domenico  Fontana  for  Sixtus  V., 
when  he  was  Cardinal  Montalto,  and  Avished  a 
shrine  of  great  splendor  to  receive  the  manger  of 
Christ.    This  had  been  brought  from  Palestine 

>  Literally,  richer  columns  of  gray  granite  have  been  sub- 
stituted for  the  pairs  that  were  thus  displaced. 


SANTA  MARIA  MAO  O I  ORE 


147 


with  the  remains  of  St.  Jerome  by  Theodore  I., 
when  he  came  from  Jerusalem  to  St.  Peter's  chair, 
and  had  been  preserved  in  one  of  the  older  chap- 
els. The  lavishness  of  this  undertaking  cost  the 
cardinal  his  allowance  from  the  papal  revenues ; 
for  the  pope,  Gregory  XIII.,  declared  that  a  car- 
dinal who  could  venture  on  such  an  undertaking 
must  be  rich  already.  The  work  would  have  been 
stopped,  says  Milizia,  if  the  architect  had  not  de- 
voted his  own  savings  to  keep  it  going.  Fontana 
had  his  reward  when  the  cardinal  became  Pope 
Sixtus,  being  appointed  with  Delia  Porta  to  carry 
on  Michelangelo's  design  for  St.  Peter's,  and  he 
speedily  finished  the  chapel  in  Sta.  Maria  Maggi- 
ore,  with  even  more  splendor  than  he  at  first  in- 
tended. 

The  five  boards  of  which  the  manger  consisted 
are  deposited  below  the  pavement  in  the  middle  of 
the  chapel  of  Sixtus,  under  a  magnificent  shrine. 
The  little  chapel  in  which  they  had  been  preserved 
was  some  twenty  yards  away  from  their  present 
position,  and  Sixtus,  as  solicitous  for  the  tradi- 
tions of  the  Church  as  he  was  imperious,  insisted 
that  the  old  chapel  should  be  moved  bodily  with 
the  precious  relic  in  it  to  its  new  place.  His  faith 
in  Fontana's  engineering  ability  had  been  fixed  by 
the  skilful  placing  of  the  obelisk  in  front  of  St. 
Peter's ;  and  the  little  building,  with  its  walls  and 
vaults  laboriously  braced,  crated  in  a  great  frame 


148 


SANTA  MARIA  MAG  G I  ORE 


of  timber,  and  slung  by  a  complicated  system  of 
ropes,  was  moved  to  its  position  and  lowered  to  its 
new  level.  Above  it  is  set  a  resplendent  taber- 
nacle of  gilded  bronze,  and  facing  it  on  each  side 
are  the  sumptuous  monuments  of  Sixtus  himself 
and  of  his  sainted  predecessor,  Pius  V. 

The  second  of  the  two  chapels  was  built  twenty- 
five  years  later  for  Paul  V.  by  Flaminio  Ponzio.  It 
is  even  more  splendid  than  the  chapel  of  Sixtus 
which  it  copies,  and  more  refined  in  its  architect- 
ural detail.  It,  too,  has  its  venerated  relic,  en- 
shrined under  a  magnificent  canopy  over  its  altar 
— the  sacred  picture  of  the  Virgin  painted  by  St. 
Luke,  the  same  which  was  carried  in  the  solemn 
penitential  procession  to  St.  Peter's  by  Gregory 
the  Great  when  pestilence  was  desolating  Rome. 
When  Paul  had  finished  his  chapel  the  picture  was 
again  carried  in  procession,  and  was  fixed  here  in 
its  frame  of  amethyst,  guarded  by  gilded  angels 
under  a  canopy  of  lapis-lazuli  and  jasper. 

Closely  as  the  two  chapels  agree  in  their  de- 
sign, there  is  one  difference  which  has,  I  think,  a 
special  significance.  The  dome  of  Ponzio's  chapel 
is  the  ordinary  hemispherical  dome  of  the  Renais- 
sance ;  Fontana's  is  lifted  into  an  ellipsoid.  Now 
Michelangelo's  dome  designed  for  St.  Peter's  was 
a  hemisphere,  and  we  know  that  Delia  Porta  and 
Fontana  got  permission  from  Sixtus,  who  insisted 
that  in  every  other  respect  Michelangelo's  design 


SANTA  MARIA  MAOQIOBE 


149 


should  be  carried  out  to  the  letter,  to  change  the 
outline  of  the  dome  and  make  it  higher.  The 
dome  of  Fontana's  chapel  is  a  pigmy  compared 
with  that  of  St.  Peter's ;  its  outline  is  not  so  fine, 
but  it  is  an  embodiment  of  the  same  idea,  an  idea 
which  no  one  before  Fontana  seems  to  have  had. 
St.  Peter's  dome  was  built  in  1588-90,  just  after 
this  chapel ;  and  it  would  seem  that  here  was  em- 
bodied the  first  conception  of  that  soaring  outline 
which,  more  than  its  size,  makes  the  distinction 
of  St.  Peter's  dome  above  all  other  domes  of  the 
Benaissance. 

Our  history  of  the  old  church  of  Sta.  Maria 
Maggiore  may  end  here.  The  changes  that  since 
this  have  taken  place  in  the  interior,  where  alone 
the  old  church  can  be  seen,  are  of  little  moment. 
The  important  changes  are  in  the  exterior,  or 
rather  in  the  architectural  case  that  has  been  built 
about  the  exterior.  At  the  time  that  he  built  his 
chapel,  Fontana  had,  by  order  of  Sixtus,  set  up  in 
the  open  place  behind  the  apse  of  the  church  an 
obelisk  which  had  long  lain  neglected  near  the 
Mausoleum  of  Augustus.  The  task  was  in  some 
ways  more  difficult  than  the  handling  of  the  obe- 
lisk before  St.  Peter's,  for  this  one  was  broken  in 
pieces  and  had  to  be  cunningly  mended  before  it 
could  be  slung.  At  the  same  time  he  opened  the 
long  street  that  under  the  triple  name  of  the  Via 


150 


SANTA  MARIA  MAO  Q I  ORE 


Sistina,  Yia  Felice,  and  Yia  dei  Quattro  Fontane 
connects  the  basilica  with  the  Trinita  dei  Monti 
and  the  Spanish  Steps.  In  like  manner  Paul  V., 
the  year  after  he  had  finished  his  chapel,  set  up 
before  the  front  of  the  basilica  the  great  Corin- 
thian column,  sixty  feet  high  between  its  lofty  ped- 
estal and  its  block  of  entablature,  the  last  plunder 
of  the  Basilica  of  Maxentius  or  Constantine,  and 
crowned  it  with  the  bronze  statue  of  the  Virgin 
which  we  still  see  there.  But  Fontana  and  Ponzio 
would  hardly  recognize  the  venerable  basilica 
which  they  left  to  be  guarded  by  these  two  senti- 
nels in  the  massive  building  which  now  stands 
there,  with  two  modern  facades  facing  the  long 
streets  that  lead  away  from  it  a  mile  in  each  di- 
rection. The  old  basilica  is  buried  in  a  pile  of 
buildings  occupied  by  the  canons  and  other  offi- 
cials that  serve  it,  and  from  most  points  of  view 
has  much  more  the  aspect  of  an  enormous  palace 
than  of  a  church.  The  rear  front,  facing  down  the 
slope  of  the  Esquiline  Hill  toward  the  Trinita 
dei  Monti,  was  built  for  Clement  X.  (1670-76)  by 
Carlo  Rainaldi,  and  follows  more  or  less  the  lines 
of  a  design  left  for  it  by  Ponzio.  It  is  by  far  the 
finest  part  of  the  exterior;  standing  well  at  the 
summit  of  the  slope,  with  its  simple  masses  and 
long  lines,  and  approached  by  an  imposing  flight 
of  steps,  it  is  dignified  and  harmonious.  The  rear 
of  the  basilica  forms  the  central  mass,  and  the 


SANTA  MARIA  MAG 01  ORE 


151 


apse  projects  from  the  middle,  showing  in  the  in- 
tercolumniations  the  windows  of  Nicholas  trans- 
formed bj  round  arches.  One  great  order  of  Co- 
rinthian pilasters  covers  more  than  half  the  height 
of  the  whole  front ;  the  second  stage  is  too  high  in 
the  middle  for  a  windowless  attic,  but  in  the  wings 
suits  the  windows  of  the  second-story  apartments. 
The  twin  domes  of  the  Sixtine  and  Pauline  chapels 
rising  above  the  wings  make  an  effective,  though 
divided,  composition.  The  warm-toned  travertine 
of  which  the  whole  outside  is  built  adds  a  charm 
to  the  architecture,  and  from  a  sufficient  distance 
the  mediaeval  bell-tower  helps  to  unite  the  other- 
wise disunited  domes. 

The  main  entrance-front,  built  for  Benedict 
XIY.  in  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century  by 
Ferdinando  Fuga,  is  much  inferior.  It  is  in  fact  a 
many-windowed  palace  with  a  commonplace  and 
unrelated  Italian  church  front  protruding  from  the 
middle.  The  cornice  is  at  a  uniform  level,  but  the 
palace  is  in  five  stories  and  the  church  in  two. 
There  is  some  elegance  of  proportion  in  the  two 
orders,  Ionic  and  Corinthian,  that  cover  these  two 
stories,  colonnaded  below,  arcaded  above  ;  but  the 
flimsy  detail,  the  multiplied  breaks  in  the  entabla- 
tures and  pediments,  and  the  uneasy  statues  that 
crown  the  balustrade,  are  in  poor  contrast  to  the 
dignity  of  the  other  fagade  and  the  centre  swears, 
as  French  critics  would  say,  at  the  wings.  The 


153 


SANTA  MARIA  MAO 01  ORE 


venerable  bell-tower  lifts  itself  with  a,  fine  alert- 
ness above  the  cornice,  but  stands  depaysee  among 
its  surroundings.  We  owe  thanks  to  Fuga,  that 
while  he  displaced  the  portico  of  Eugene  III.  and 
used  its  columns  for  his  own  porch,  he  preserved 
the  old  front  above  it.  The  open  loggia  which  he 
provided  in  the  second  story  for  the  papal  bene- 
diction at  once  protects  and  displays  the  historic 
mosaics  of  Rusuti  which  I  have  described. 

Benedict  did  much  to  restore  and  adorn  the 
interior.  He  renewed  the  pavement,  inserted  the 
responding  pilasters  of  marble  which  bring  the 
aisles  into  harmony  with  the  nave,  refreshed  the 
paintings  and  mosaic,  and  added  the  baldacchino, 
with  columns  of  porphyry  and  canopy  of  gilt 
bronze,  which  stands  over  the  high  altar.  As  he 
left  the  church,  we  see  it  still.  The  only  change 
in  recent  days  has  been  the  rebuilding  of  the  con- 
fessio  beneath  the  high  altar  by  Vespignani  for 
Pius  IX.,  who  intended  this  for  his  own  burial- 
place,  but  whose  body  lies  elsewhere. 

L'art  a  de  la  peine  a  se  soustraire  an  paganismet 
says  Letarouilly  :  in  Borne  at  least,  where  Letarou- 
illy  wrote  it,  this  is  true.  Sta.  Maria  Maggiore  is 
an  epitome  of  the  architectural  history  of  Christian 
Rome,  and  may  serve  to  illustrate  how  little  there 
is  or  ever  was  in  Rome  of  architecture  distinctively 
Christian,  or  of  any  architecture  not  essentially 
classic.    The  earliest  parts  of  the  church  that  re- 


SANTA  MARIA  MAGGIORE 


153 


main,  whether  they  are  from  the  time  of  Liberius 
or  of  Sixtus  III.,  are  as  classic  as  the  Arch  of  Con- 
stantine.  The  arch  emancipated  from  the  entabla- 
ture, which  is  the  only  unclassic  feature  that  ever 
naturalized  itself  in  Rome,  has  found  no  place  here. 

The  Lombard  style,  scarcely  known  in  this 
city,  as  we  have  seen,  except  by  its  campanili,  is 
represented  in  due  proportion  by  the  half-con- 
cealed bell-tower.  The  great  Gothic  movement, 
which  changed  the  face  of  northern  Europe,  but 
has  hardly  left  any  mark  in  Rome,  is  here  but 
just  betrayed  by  the  windows  of  the  apse  and 
tower.  The  art  that  lifted  its  head  in  Rome  af- 
ter the  collapse  of  the  ninth  and  tenth  centuries 
turned  instinctively  to  classic  forms,  as  we  have 
seen  in  the  vanished  porch  of  Eugene  III.  The 
Renaissance,  born  in  Florence,  found  in  Rome  its 
readiest  welcome  and  natural  home.  It  developed 
here  its  most  classic  aspect,  its  greatest  sumptuous- 
ness.  The  decorative  arts  through  all  these  many 
centuries  hardly  strayed  away,  it  would  appear, 
from  classic  types.  Even  in  the  churchly  rites  of 
Rome  and  her  popular  beliefs,  in  the  superstitions 
of  her  people,  in  the  very  days  of  her  festivals,  her 
cult  of  saints,  the  forms  of  her  religious  observ- 
ances, the  classical  substratum  shows  through  at 
every  turn.  To  all  these  things  the  Liberian  basil- 
ica, in  its  architectural  forms,  in  its  pictured  deco- 
rations, and  in  its  magnificence,  is  a  witness. 


EOMANESQUE  AKCHITECTUEE 


I 

It  is  easy  to  forget,  on  the  one  hand,  how  dis- 
tinctively architecture  is  a  thing  of  race,  or,  on  the 
other,  how  wide  has  been  the  controlling  influence 
of  the  races  that  have  given  birth  to  styles.  The 
whole  of  classic  architecture,  I  have  tried  to  show 
in  another  essay,  was  the  creation  of  the  Greeks. 
Early  Christian  or  Latin  architecture,  a  transitional 
phase,  seems  to  have  been  a  mixed  product  of 
mixed  influences,  in  which  Greek  skill  and  barba- 
rian enterprise  in  the  east  and  Italian  conserva- 
tism in  the  west  all  had  a  share.  After  the  first 
Christian  centuries  there  was  a  division  of  styles 
as  of  empire.  That  singular  combination  of  Greek, 
oriental,  and  northern  elements  which  made  the 
Eastern  Empire,  made  also  the  Byzantine  style.  In 
due  time  grew  up  under  the  hands  of  the  Teutonic 
races  that  central  stock  of  so-called  Lombard 
architecture  which  was  really  the  common  Eo- 
manesque  of  Germauy  itself  and  of  those  parts  of 
Italy  that  were  given  up  to  German  influence,  and 

154 


CATHEDRAL— SPEYER 
Romanesque  Towers 


ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE  155 

of  whicli  the  arcliitectures  of  England  and  France 
were  variants.  Somewhat  later  there  germinated 
separately  in  Tuscany,  where  Italian  character 
remained  ascendant,  but  with  a  large  infiltration 
of  Teutonic  energy  and  imagination,  the  little 
style  which  we  call  the  Tuscan  Komanesque.  It 
was  really  the  fulfilling  of  the  Early  Christian, 
worked  out  not  pictorially,  as  a  skeleton  of  walls 
and  roof  wrapped  within  with  a  garment  of  paint- 
ing and  mosaic,  like  the  basilicas  of  Rome  and 
Ravenna,  but  architecturally,  with  a  rich  and 
delicate  detail  incorporated  into  its  substance, 
both  within  and  without,  of  sculpture  and  colored 
marbles.  Its  culmination  was  the  cathedral  of 
Pisa.  It  had  not  the  grandeur,  the  flexibility  and 
variety,  the  constructive  shape,  or  the  luxuriant 
imagination  of  the  Lombard  Romanesque,  but  it 
was  complete  within  its  limits,  wrought  out  with 
rare  refinement,  and  in  a  perfection  that  foreshad- 
owed that  of  the  Renaissance,  to  which  in  the 
course  of  time  it  led.  That  the  peculiarities  of 
this  singularly  isolated  style  were  due  to  qualities 
of  race  it  is  hard  to  doubt.  The  evidence  of  the 
obscure  early  history  of  Tuscany  does  not  clearly 
show  what  was  the  dominant  blood  in  its  people, 
or  what  was  the  race  whose  peculiar  instinct  came 
to  the  surface  in  Tuscan  art  in  the  Middle  Ages. 
It  could  hardly  be  the  Roman  race  ;  the  Romans, 
we  have  seen  before,  were  not  artistic.    It  could 


156 


ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE 


not  be  Teutonic,  for  Tuscany  was  that  part  of 
northern  Italy  into  which  the  northern  blood  was 
most  scantily  injected,  and  which  was  sharply  dis- 
sociated from  northern  art.  What  is  left  but  the 
Etruscan — the  mysterious  race  which  furnished 
the  Romans  with  their  early  art,  whose  history 
is  mostly  hidden  from  us?  But  the  question  is 
too  difficult  for  discussion  here. 


n 

There  is  no  doubt  that  we  owe  Eomanesque 
architecture  to  the  German  race.  The  Latin 
basilican  style  of  Constantine's  time  extended  ap- 
parently over  the  whole  of  western  Christendom, 
and  was  by  no  means  the  narrow  or  short-lived 
style  that  we  might  be  tempted  to  believe  it.  It  is 
true  that  scarcely  any  basilicas  are  left  to  us  out- 
side of  Italy,  few  outside  of  Rome  and  Ravenna, 
and  none  in  Gaul  and  Spain,  where,  as  we  read, 
many  were  built  in  the  centuries  that  followed  the 
conversion  of  the  Empire ;  yet  all  the  evidence 
shows  that  the  Latin  type  remained  without  con- 
siderable modification  through  the  long  period 
while  the  Gothic,  the  Lombard,  and  the  Merovin- 
gian kingdoms,  and  the  new  empire  of  Charlemagne, 
were  forming  and  crumbling  away.  The  fragments 
of  early  Christian  building  that  are  still  to  be 
found  scattered  over  France  and  Germany,  the 


ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE  157 

testimony  of  contemporaneous  writers  so  far  as  it 
indicates  anything  clearly,  show  that  even  down 
to  the  ninth  century  the  form  of  the  churches  was 
still  essentially  the  same  everywhere.  By  that 
time  the  whole  of  Europe  had  been  Teutonised ; 
only  the  south  of  Italy  and  a  fringe  of  its  coast 
territory,  and  in  less  degree  the  southern  part  of 
Gaul,  had  retained  their  population  and  their  char- 
acteristics comparatively  unimpaired.  But  the 
Germans,  and  the  peoples  among  whom  they  were 
the  controlling  element,  like  those  of  northern  Italy, 
when  they  came  to  have  leisure  and  inclination  for 
building,  began  with  such  buildings  as  their  pred- 
ecessors had  built.  Theodoric  and  Charlemagne, 
the  greatest  figures  in  history  between  the  Em- 
pire and  the  Kenaissance,  aimed  directly  to  con- 
tinue and  restore  Koman  civilization.  Even  the 
Lombards,  although  their  name  has  stuck  to  the 
style  that  followed  them,  evidently  attempted  no 
serious  innovations.  It  was  sufficient  for  the  re- 
storers of  architecture  at  first  to  try  to  recover  the 
skill  and  replace  the  buildings  that  had  been  lost 
in  the  devastations  of  three  centuries,  and  their 
early  attempts  were  impotent  enough.  The  belief 
which  was  common  a  few  years  ago,  that  the  style 
which  we  call  Lombard  was  the  product  of  the 
Lombard  kingdom,  and  that  we  see  the  work  of 
that  kingdom  in  the  oldest  churches  of  Milan  and 
Pavia,  has  not  stood  against  recent  investigation. 


15S  UOJIANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE 

I  speak  of  churches,  for  mediaeval  architecture  was 
church  architecture ;  its  progress  was  made,  its 
important  forms  were  developed  in  the  building  of 
churches  ;  and  the  type  with  which  I  am  occupied 
here  is  that  great  central  type,  the  cruciform 
church,  which  embodied  the  building  effort  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  whose  development  took  a  thousand 
years,  growing  out  of  the  basilica  of  the  fourth 
century,  and  into  the  cathedral  of  the  thirteenth 
and  fourteenth. 

The  Middle  Ages  have  been  said  to  begin  with 
the  breaking  up  of  Charlemagne's  empire  in  the 
ninth  century.  It  was  not  till  then  that  European 
society,  delivered  from  the  strain  of  overwhelming 
invasion  and  the  dominion  of  individual  will,  be- 
gan to  crystallize  into  its  own  forms.  Then  fol- 
lowed the  prevalence  of  the  feudal  system  in  the 
state,  and  in  the  Church  the  analogous  hierarchy 
of  the  monastic  orders,  in  whose  hands  architect- 
ure advanced  and  expanded  enormously.  It  is 
possible  that  students  of  monastic  architecture 
have  exaggerated  the  influence  of  the  monks  in 
church  building,  yet  it  is  certain  that  the  eleventh 
and  twelfth  centuries,  in  which  the  great  building 
order,  the  Benedictine,  was  most  exemplary  and 
powerful  in  the  Church  and  the  world,  were  those 
of  the  greatest  development  of  architecture.  It  is 
certain  that  these  orders  maintained  their  own 
schools  of  arts  and  letters,  and  that  north  of  the 


ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE  159 

Alps,  where  tliey  were  in  greatest  force,  tliey  were 
not  only  the  leaders  but  the  chief  possessors  of 
both  literature  and  art ;  and  that  architecture,  be- 
ing the  dominant  art,  took  up  the  most  of  their  in- 
terest and  activity.  It  is  not  so  easy  to  prove  that 
the  amount  of  building  that  was  done  in  the  north 
was  greater  and  its  progress  faster  than  in  the 
south,  where  it  was  more  the  work  of  secular  arti- 
sans. The  witness  of  the  buildings  themselves  is 
not  so  decisive  as  we  could  wish,  for  those  of  the 
early  ages  of  growth  are  mostly  displaced  by  later, 
and  the  questions  of  chronological  sequence  in 
these  dim  centuries  are  difficult.  In  the  fifth  and 
sixth  centuries,  before  the  prevalence  of  the  mo- 
nastic orders,  building  was  in  the  hands  of  the 
bishops ;  and  there  being  no  workmen  among  the 
invaders,  the  north  gathered  them  from  the  south, 
and  they  worked  in  the  southern  fashion.  The 
clergy  themselves,  indeed,  who  were  the  movers 
and  inspirers  of  architecture,  were  up  to  this  time 
all  Eoman.  Even  Charlemagne's  building  was,  as 
he  at  least  believed,  only  a  continuation  of  the  tra- 
ditions of  the  Roman  empire.  The  invasions  of 
the  ninth  century  undid  most  of  the  work  of  the 
three  or  four  previous  centuries.  The  Northmen 
in  the  north  of  France  and  the  Rhinelands,  the 
Huns  farther  east,  the  Saracens  in  Italy,  ravaged, 
plundered,  and  burned.  As  Quicherat  says,  it  was 
a  universal  bonfire  that  the  Normans  made  of  the 


160  ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE 

churches  raised  at  so  great  cost  by  the  Frankish 
emperors.  Decade  after  decade  the  marauders 
returned,  churches  and  convents  went  down  wher- 
ever they  passed,  till  the  lands  were  stripped  of 
their  architecture  and  the  inhabitants  left  with  lit- 
tle heart  or  hope  for  rebuilding.  But  these  inva- 
sions did  not  change  the  population  like  those  of 
the  fifth  century,  except  where  the  Northmen  set- 
tled, and  founded  the  duchy  of  Normandy.  When 
the  flood  subsided,  the  people  began  where  they 
had  left  off,  and  the  rebuilding  went  on  slowly  at 
first  in  the  old  way. 

The  north  of  Europe  had  been  full  of  monastic 
settlements  even  before  this.  The  south  of  Gaul 
and  the  Rhinelands  had  been  w^ell  sprinkled  with 
Roman  towns ;  but  northern  Gaul  and  Germany 
were  wildernesses  up  to  the  end  of  the  Empire, 
and  there  were  scarcely  any  German  cities  before 
the  ninth  century.  The  German  races  abhorred 
town  life,  scorned  walls,  and  poured  contempt  on 
those  who  dwelt  behind  them.  While  Roman 
Gaul  and  Italy  were  civic  countries,  in  which  pow- 
er, initiative,  and  example  belonged  to  the  cities, 
the  northern  lands  were  purely  rustic  lands,  in 
which,  as  Yillari  says,^  the  hamlet,  not  the  city, 

'  Villari's  remark  is  interesting  :  It  is  certain  that  the  Roman 
empire  was  an  aggregate  of  municipalities,  which  administered 
themselves.  The  city  was  the  primitive  molecule,  the  cell,  if 
we  may  so  speak,  of  the  great  Roman  community,  which  began 


ROMANESQUE  ARCRITBCTURE  161 

was  the  unit.  The  key  to  the  settlement  of  Ger- 
many had  been  its  conversion  to  Christianity  in 
the  eighth  century  by  the  missionary  monks, 
chiefly  by  Winfried  or  Boniface,  that  great  West- 
Saxon  monk  from  England  who,  made  archbishop 
of  Mainz  in  spite  of  himself,  reverted  again  and 
again  to  his  missionary  work,  going  back  and  forth 
among  the  unconverted  Saxons  of  Germany,  and 
finally  perishing  in  the  midst  of  the  savage  heathen 
by  the  far-off  shore  of  the  North  Sea.  There  is 
an  interesting  story,  too  long  to  tell  here,  of  how 
he  and  his  pupil,  Sturm,  founded  the  famous  con- 
vent of  Fulda,  on  a  site  which  the  venturous 
Sturm  chose  in  solitary  exploration  through  the 
heart  of  the  Buchonian  forest.  There  Boniface 
began  the  Church  of  the  Saviour  which  Sturm  fin- 
ished, and  which  after  a  thousand  years  of  various 
history  was  extinguished  in  the  modern  cathedral. 
To  it,  after  his  death,  the  body  of  Boniface  was 
tenderly  borne  in  procession,  from  city  to  city, 
through  hundreds  of  miles  of  that  wilderness 
which  he  had  labored  to  Christianize.  Wherever 
his  coffin  rested  by  night  or  day  crosses  were  set, 
and  a  line  of  convents  grew  up  at  the  stations  to 
mark  its  progress  for  later  times.    These  w^ere  the 

to  fall  to  pieces  when  there  came  a  lack  at  the  capital  of  the 
centripetal  force  which  was  needed  to  hold  together  so  great  a 
number  of  cities,  separated  by  enormous  country  districts  de- 
serted, or  populated  ouly  by  the  slaves  that  cultivated  them. 


162  ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE 

men,  and  this  the  spirit  that  converted  Germany 
from  a  wilderness  full  of  savage  wanderers  to  a 
settled  and  civilized  country.  This  was  the  ardor 
with  which  the  wild  men  of  the  north,  who  had 
brought  ruin  into  Europe,  turned  from  war  to 
spread  the  Christian  religion  when  the  time  was 
come.  Germany  was  filled  with  monasteries,  which 
became  each  a  centre  of  civilization,  a  teacher  first 
of  husbandry  and  then  of  art  and  literature,  pro- 
viding perforce  in  its  early  isolation  all  the  means 
and  occupations  of  life  as  well  as  the  services  of 
religion  for  the  community  which  gathered  about 
it,  and  increased  with  every  year. 

The  first  need  of  the  monks  was  for  buildings. 
Almost  before  shelter  worship  was  provided  for. 
The  record  is  that  artisans  were  at  first  imported 
from  the  older  settled  countries,  that  in  due  time, 
as  the  building  increased  more  and  more  with  the 
spreading  and  population  of  the  monasteries  and 
the  settlements  about  them,  the  workmen  gath- 
ered in  great  companies,  and  regular  schools  or 
unions  were  founded.  The  disastrous  ninth  cen- 
tury appears,  as  I  have  said,  to  have  more  than 
checked  the  progress  of  building,  while  it  appar- 
ently much  increased  the  influx  of  people  to  the 
convents.  For  invasions  from  without  had  brought 
disorders  at  home,  and  the  social  order  was  so 
loosened  that  whoever  longed  for  peace  looked  for 
it  naturally  in  the  cloister,  bringing  his  property 


ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE  163 

as  an  offering  for  protection  in  this  world  and  the 
next.  Under  the  accumulation  of  wealth  which 
this  brought  to  the  convents  in  the  richer  parts  of 
Europe,  especially  in  the  south,  the  great  Bene- 
dictine order  which  governed  the  most  of  them 
grew  luxurious  and  brought  much  scandal  upon 
the  Church.  Disorder  and  disrepute  so  increased 
in  France  that  various  efforts  at  reform  were  made, 
culminating  in  920  with  the  establishment  of  the 
famous  monastery  of  Cluny,  which  gradually  ac- 
quired almost  supreme  control  of  the  Benedictines 
in  France.  It  became  the  mother  of  hundreds  of 
monasteries,  and  the  founder  of  a  great  school 
of  building  from  which  grew  in  the  next  century 
thousands  of  churches.  In  time  the  Clunisian 
monks  also  sank  into  luxury  and  sloth,  and  the 
second  reformed  branch  of  the  order,  the  Cister- 
cian, succeeded  in  the  twelfth  century  to  their  in- 
fluence and  their  building  energy. 

Thus  it  is  safe  to  say  that  in  northern  Europe 
up  to  the  time  when  in  the  twelfth  century  the 
towns  began  to  grow  independent,  and  then  rich 
and  powerful,  the  greater  part  of  the  building  was 
done  by  the  Benedictines ;  and  architecture,  which 
three  centuries  before  had  been  in  the  hands 
chiefly  of  the  bishops,  had  passed  into  theirs. 
When  the  long  disorders  of  the  ninth  century  and 
the  slow  attempts  at  recovery  in  the  tenth  had 
passed,  and  with  the  growth  of  the  feudal  systena 


164  MOMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE 

a  kind  of  order  had  established  itself  through 
Europe,  there  followed  an  outburst  of  enthusiasm 
in  building  which,  looked  at  from  the  present, 
seems  amazing.  French  writers  make  much  of 
the  depressing  influence  of  the  year  one  thousand, 
and  the  expectation  of  the  end  of  the  world  which 
filled  Christendom  with  uneasiness  and  deadened 
every  impulse  of  progress.  It  seems  evident  that 
at  least  in  the  south — in  France,  and  perhaps  in 
Italy — this  had  much  effect  and  put  a  check  for 
the  moment  on  the  progress  of  building,  though 
there  is  record  of  many  churches  going  on  in  the 
north  in  the  last  decade  of  the  tenth  century.  At 
all  events  the  growth  in  the  eleventh  was  sudden 
and  general.  Ealph  the  Bald,  the  monkish  his- 
torian of  Cluny,  writes  thus  of  what  he  saw : 
"  Towards  the  third  year  after  the  year  one  thou- 
sand the  sacred  basilicas  were  rebuilt  from  foun- 
dation to  roof  throughout  almost  the  whole  uni- 
verse, especially  in  Italy  and  Gaul.  Christian 
people  seemed  to  vie  with  each  other  in  building 
the  fairest  and  richest  churches ;  one  would  have 
said  that  the  whole  world  with  one  accord  had 
put  off  its  old  worn  garment  to  clothe  itself  anew 
with  churches,  as  with  a  white  robe.  It  w^as  not 
enough  for  the  faithful  to  rebuild  the  churches  of 
the  bishops,  they  restored  and  adorned  the  mon- 
asteries that  were  dedicated  to  the  saints,  and 
even  the  village  chapels."    A  passion  for  building 


ROMANESQ  UE'  ARCHITECTURE  165 

seems  to  have  infected  Cliristendom.  It  is  to  be 
remembered  that  the  regular  clergy,  that  is,  the 
monastic  clergy,  was  at  this  time  the  popular 
branch  of  the  Church,  recruited  mainly  from  the 
poorer  classes  of  the  people — although  its  digni- 
taries were  apt  to  be  of  higher  position — and  the 
most  democratic  in  organization ;  that  within  the 
cloister  worldly  dignities  vanished,  or  at  least 
were  reduced  to  less  importance  than  elsewhere. 
Yet  the  feudal  system  which  pervaded  the  whole 
social  fabric  north  of  the  Alps  had  its  effect  on 
the  clergy  and  in  the  convents.  The  sees  and 
convents  came  to  be  endowed  with  great  domains 
which  the  pious  or  the  penitent  had  conferred  on 
them ;  their  bishops,  abbots,  or  priors  held  them 
in  fief  and  received  feudal  service  for  them.  We 
are  told  that  in  the  twelfth  century  a  fifth  of  all 
the  lands  of  France  and  England  belonged  to  the 
Church,  and  of  Germany  a  third.  Thus  they 
held  control  of  the  service  of  large  numbers  of 
people  by  civil  tenure  as  well  as  by  religious  or- 
ganization. Not  only  did  the  monks  themselves 
work  at  building,  husbandry,  and  other  produc- 
tive labor,  but  the  people  who  were  the  subjects 
of  the  convents  were  banded  into  trades  for 
special  service.  Prelates  and  monks  familiar  with 
building  work  made  plans  for  churches  and  con- 
vents, and  directed  the  workmen.  We  hear  con- 
tinually on  the  one  hand  of  monks  sent  from 


166  nOMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE 

convent  to  convent  or  called  away  by  this  or 
that  bishop  to  take  charge  of  buildings,  and  on 
the  other  of  men,  apparently  laymen,  summoned 
hither  and  thither  to  some  convent  that  needed  a 
building  director.  The  zeal  of  the  bishops  and 
abbots  often  bore  hard  on  their  monks  and  serfs. 
We  find  even  in  Charlemagne's  time  the  monks  of 
Fulda  appealing  to  the  emperor  for  relief  against 
their  active  abbot  Eatger,  who  kept  them  forever 
at  work  in  building,  so  that  they  had  no  time  for 
anything  else.  The  complaint  of  an  anonymous 
monkish  writer  against  the  ambitious  archbishop 
Heribert  of  Cologne  at  the  very  beginning  of  the 
eleventh  century  is  an  interesting  commentary  on 
the  words  of  the  monk  of  Cluny  which  I  have  just 
quoted.  He  writes  :  "  Under  this  bishop  first  be- 
gan among  us  the  pulling  down  of  old  buildings 
and  the  putting  up  of  new.  His  forerunners  had 
been  pleased  with  very  humble  and  simple  build- 
ings, but  would  have  in  them  great  abundance. 
Yet  this  bishop  and  all  his  successors  kept  build- 
ing new  churches,  new  palaces,  even  new  castles, 
and  doing  this  by  forced  labor  they  wore  out  the 
working  people  with  utter  poverty.  For  while  al- 
most all  the  time  for  manuring,  ploughing  and  the 
rest  of  husbandry  was  given  under  constraint  to 
heaping  up  stones,  and  while  yet  the  regular  trib- 
ute was  exacted  with  extreme  severity,  the  former 
abundance  was  reduced  to  want,  and  the  great 


EOJfANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE  167 

joyf Illness  wliich  liad  been  under  former  bishops 
to  abject  wretchedness."  Surely  the  people  in 
those  days  did  not  give  to  God  that  which  had 
cost  them  nothing.  If  we  needed  other  testimony 
than  that  of  the  monuments  themselves  to  show 
the  rapid  progress  of  architecture  in  the  eleventh 
century,  those  extracts  and  other  like  passages 
would  indicate  it ;  for  men  do  not  pull  down  their 
old  buildings  till  they  see  how  to  build  better ; 
nor  does  it  need  more  to  show  us  how  universal 
and  absorbing  the  passion  for  building  had  be- 
come at  this  time,  and  how  great  a  share  of  pro- 
ductive labor  it  consumed.  Indeed  the  very  ra- 
pidity and  continuity  of  the  progress  makes  now 
one  great  obstacle  to  tracing  out  the  sequence  of 
it,  for  as  convents  and  sees  grew  rich,  and  as  one 
device  in  building  followed  another,  the  older 
works  fell  behind  the  advancing  skill  or  taste  of 
their  day,  and  nothing  would  serve  but  they  must 
be  replaced.  Churches,  begun  as  they  usually 
were  at  the  east  end,  and  growing  year  by  year, 
decade  by  decade,  gaining  in  perfection  as  they 
grew,  had  hardly  reached  their  western  front  be- 
fore the  east  ends  ceased  to  satisfy,  and  they 
must  be  begun  again  at  the  same  point,  perhaps 
to  go  through  the  same  process  once  more,  and 
even  be  ready  for  a  second  rebuilding.  This  not 
only  disturbed  chronology,  but  swept  away  a  great 
part  of  the  evidence  of  history  as  fast  as  it  was 


1C8  ROMANESqVE  ARCHITECTURE 

provided,  and  has  left  the  world  stripped  of  most 
of  the  buildings  of  the  transition  days,  making 
our  record  imperfect  and  the  way  of  the  student 
difficult. 

The  share  of  the  convents  in  the  work  is  further 
illustrated  in  the  somewhat  obscure  history  of  the 
lay  brethren  attached  to  them,  by  whom  most  of 
the  manual  work  was  done.  Attracted  by  the  pros- 
pect of  repose,  of  steady  support,  relief  from  bear- 
ing arms  and  from  the  oppressions  of  lay  masters, 
they  gathered  about  the  convents  in  great  numbers 
as  these  grew  able  to  support  dependants.  They 
were  mainly  mechanics,  whose  work  was  for  the 
most  part  concerned  with  building.  They  were  sent 
from  convent  to  convent,  from  church  to  church, 
as  they  were  needed,  and  were  even  let  out  for 
secular  work,  but  were  not  free  to  go  at  their  own 
will,  or  work  in  manufacture  of  deadly  weapons, 
nor,  among  the  Cistercians  at  least,  for  pay.  Pre- 
sumably we  owe  to  them  the  most  of  the  convents 
and  churches  that  in  the  Middle  Ages  were  sprin- 
kled over  the  face  of  Europe.  They  were  a  rough, 
busy,  and  rather  turbulent  class,  half  cloistered, 
half  worldly,  under  vows  of  celibacy  and  obe- 
dience, and  distinguished  visibly  from  the  monks 
not  only  by  dress  but  by  their  avoidance  of  the 
tonsure.  Known  as  fratres  converst,  they  were 
nicknamed  Barbati  from  their  beards,  to  which 
they  held  as  tenaciously  as  some  modern  soldiers, 


ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE  169 

SO  tenaciously  that  when  a  certain  Premonstaten- 
sian  abbot  would  have  forced  them  to  shave  their 
chins  his  bearded  brothers  mutinied  and  came  near 
to  burning  his  convent  about  his  ears.  Their  ex- 
istence bears  strong  witness  to  the  control  of  the 
monastic  orders  on  architecture,  and  they  furnish 
a  connecting  link  with  the  bodies  of  secular  build- 
ers whose  unions  we  know  of  in  the  south,  merging 
easily  into  the  great  unions  of  workmen  who  at 
last  took  control  of  architecture  in  the  thirteenth 
century,  and  made  it  a  secular  thing  even  in  the 
service  of  the  episcopate. 

The  famous  monastic  plan  preserved  in  the 
Benedictine  abbey  of  St.  Gall  is  not  only  the  old- 
est architectural  working-drawing  left  to  us,  but 
a  precise  and  authentic  record  of  the  manner  of 
building  in  the  ninth  century,  and  in  some  ways 
more  valuable  than  if  it  depicted  a  particular  set 
of  existing  buildings,  for  it  shows  the  ideal  at 
which  the  enlightened  builders  of  that  day  were 
aiming.  It  is  a  drawing  on  parchment,  two  and  a 
half  feet  by  three  and  a  half,  dated  820,  and  sent 
to  Gozpert,  abbot  of  St.  Gall  at  that  time,  by  some 
friend  who  is  not  identified,  for  guidance  or  sug- 
gestion in  the  rebuilding  of  his  monastery  which 
was  then  to  be  undertaken.  Carefully  and  mi- 
nutely drawn,  it  shows  with  much  detail  the  ar- 
rangement of  the  buildings  of  a  great  monastery — 
the  central  church  surrounded  by  cloisters,  chapels, 


170  ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE 

dormitories,  refectories,  assembly-rooms,  kitcliens, 
breweries,  store-houses,  wine-cellar,  workshops,  in- 
firmary, dwellings  for  the  abbot  and  for  visitors, 
kitchen-garden,  orchard — all  that  was  needed  by  a 
numerous,  active,  and  well-to-do  community,  iso- 
lated and  sufficient  to  itself.  The  church  is  a 
large  basilica  essentially  of  the  Latin  type,  as  we 
might  expect,  but  with  some  modifications  which 
show  what  the  accumulated  monks  were  beginning 
to  do  even  so  early  in  the  Carlovingian  period.  It 
is  some  two  hundred  feet  long,  with  a  nave  forty 
feet  wide  divided  from  the  aisles  by  arches  borne 
on  columns,  and  intended  for  a  wooden  roof  :  the 
only  vaulting  indicated  is  in  the  crypt  under  the 
choir.  The  transept  is  as  wide  as  the  nave  ;  which 
is  prolonged  through  and  beyond  the  transept  in 
an  eastern  arm  ;  and  the  transept  arms  are  parted 
off  into  side  chapels  for  special  services,  making  a 
defined  crossing  in  the  way  that  we  shall  consider 
elsewhere.  There  are  both  an  eastern  and  western 
apse — a  German  characteristic  that  we  see  in  the 
great  churches  of  Fulda,  Trier,  Mainz,  Worms, 
Laach,  and  many  others,  which  has  been  a  puzzle 
to  archaeologists — one  great  altar  being  here  dedi- 
cated to  St.  Peter  and  the  other  to  St.  Paul.  We 
are  surprised  at  the  great  number  of  altars,  there 
being  no  less  than  fifteen  in  the  church,  and  the 
aisles  even  being  divided  into  something  like  sep- 
arate chapels  by  screens  against  which  altars  are 


ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE  171 

set.  Near  the  western  apse,  but  standing  apart 
from  it  in  Italian  fashion,  are  two  round  towers, 
which  according  to  the  subjoined  inscription  were 
accessible  by  winding  stairs  for  overlooking  the 
universe — ascensus  per  cochleam  ad  universa  super- 
inspicienda — towers  not  unnecessary  for  watching 
or  defence,  and  connected  with  the  church  by  gal- 
leries or  bridges.  We  are  entitled  to  believe  that 
this  plan,  devised  for  an  important  occasion  by 
someone  who  was  evidently  skilled  in  building, 
records  the  latest  ideas  of  that  progressive  time. 
It  sums  up  for  us  many  facts  which  without  it  we 
must  glean  from  comparison  of  scanty  and  scattered 
remains  of  the  buildings  themselves.  It  illustrates 
convincingly  the  importance  and  the  organization 
of  the  monastic  communities,  the  inventive  activ- 
ity with  which  they  pursued  the  art  of  building. 
Dating  as  it  does  only  six  years  after  Charle- 
magne's death,  at  the  very  beginning  of  the  time 
of  mediaeval  transition,  it  may  stand  as  the  last 
type  of  the  Early  Christian  church,  in  which  germs 
are  already  implanted  that  are  to  develop  into 
characteristic  forms  of  Romanesque  architecture. 


172 


ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE 


III 

The  conditions  of  their  time  gave  the  Eoman- 
esque  builders  a  perfectly  free  hand ;  for  all  the 
traditions  of  classical  building  had  been  swept 
away,  had  even  begun  to  yield  before  the  Chris- 
tian church  had  called  up  the  new  basilican  type 
of  building.  They  found  this  type  a  ready  object 
for  further  development,  with  suggestive  forms, 
but  almost  devoid  of  architectural  details,  and  de- 
pendent in  its  structure  on  a  feature,  the  arch, 
whose  simplest  applications  alone  had  been  as  yet 
worked  out.  The  mason,  and  rather  an  unskilled 
kind  of  mason,  had  architecture  in  his  hands,  and 
this  accounts  for  some  di£ferences  of  detail  be- 
tween the  German  and  the  Italian  branches  of  the 
style.  In  the  cities  of  Gaul,  less  completely  des- 
olated than  those  of  Italy,  and  sooner  brought  to 
some  stability  by  the  establishment  of  the  Frank- 
ish  kingdom,  the  revival  began  in  the  middle  of 
the  sixth  century  by  the  restoration  of  the  great 
episcopal  churches  of  the  cities  on  and  near  the 
Rhine,  Trier,  Mainz,  and  Cologne.  The  Lombard 
kings  hardly  began  building  before  the  seventh 
century,  and  of  their  works  it  is  difficult  to  say 
that  anything  now  exists.  It  is  pretty  clear  that 
their  churches  did  not  differ  essentially  from  the 
Latin  basilicas ;  the  evolution  of  new  forms  did  not 


ROMANESqVE  ARCHITECTURE  173 

begin  till  after  the  establishment  of  the  Frankish 
dominion  in  Italy  by  Charlemagne,  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  ninth  century.  The  cathedral  of  Tor- 
cello,  built  in  that  city  of  refuge  at  the  middle  of  the 
seventh  century,  not  by  Lombards,  to  be  sure,  but 
by  a  Roman  bishop,  may  stand  as  an  example  of 
the  work  of  that  period,  and  it  has  the  unaltered 
form  of  the  basilicas  of  the  fourth  century.  This 
evidently  was  the  accepted  form  of  the  earliest 
churches  throughout  Christendom ;  it  was  the  root 
from  which  the  mediaeval  churches  grew  alike  in 
Germany  and  in  Italy.  We  see  it  unchanged  in 
the  oldest  German  churches  that  are  left  to  us, 
which  date  from  the  reign  of  Charlemagne  and  his 
immediate  successors.  The  unique  exception  is 
the  cathedral  of  Trier,  which  belonged  to  the  age 
of  Constantine,  and  whose  much  altered  condition 
betrays  an  original  type  peculiar  to  itself.  The 
one  architectural  adornment  of  these  churches,  the 
column,  was  insisted  on  so  long  as  the  supply  of 
convertible  Roman  columns  held  out,  and  wliere- 
ever  such  columns  could  be  found ;  when  and 
where  the  columns  were  not  to  be  had,  the  pier 
was  substituted  and  the  arch  brought  back  to  its 
original  condition  of  a  simple  hole  in  the  wall. 
We  may  judge  what  value  was  set  on  the  marble 
shafts  of  Roman  buildings  when  we  remember  that 
the  emperor  Otto  I.  imported  columns  of  marble 
and  porphyry  from  Italy,  probably  from  Ravenna, 


174  ROATANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE 

for  the  cathedral  of  Magdeburg.  Laborious  trans- 
portation it  must  have  been  in  the  small  vessels  of 
Otto's  time — round  Sicily,  through  the  Mediter- 
ranean, up  the  coast  of  Spain  and  France,  through 
the  English  Channel  and  the  North  Sea,  and  three 
hundred  miles  or  so  up  the  Elbe.  The  eastern 
apse,  the  division  into  aisles,  and  the  clerestory, 
except  in  the  smallest  churches,  were  universal. 
Of  this  type  is  the  basilica  of  Steinbach  built  by 
Eginhard,  Charlemagne's  minister,  beside  the 
Rhine,  perhaps  the  oldest  German  mediaeval 
church  that  now  survives  except  Charlemagne's 
own  round  minster  at  Aachen  (Aix-la-chapelle). 

Italy  was  still  the  model  of  all  that  was  beauti- 
ful and  great  in  that  age,  at  least  to  the  people  of 
the  north.  There  is  a  touch  of  humor  or  of 
pathos,  as  one  looks  at  it,  in  the  effort  of  the  great 
Frank,  greater  than  the  men  he  emulated,  to  pat- 
tern his  mushroom  state,  whether  in  polity  or  iu 
art,  on  the  mature  empire  which  had  been  tho 
growth  of  a  thousand  years  in  both — that  ill- 
cemented  state  which  fell  to  pieces  before  it 
reached  the  hands  of  his  grandchildren ;  his  second 
Rome,  with  its  extemporized  Forum  and  its  Sen- 
ate of  half-civilized  Franks,  his  uncouth  buildings 
which  rudely  mocked  the  architecture  of  Ravenna. 
We  know  that  he  gathered  learned  men,  artists, 
and  skilful  workmen  from  Constantinople,  that 
with  the  permission  of  Hadrian  I.  he  brought  col- 


ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE  175 

umns  and  marbles  and  mosaics  from  the  palace  of 
his  great  forerunner  Theodoric  at  Eavenna.  The 
poet  Angilbert  tells  of  the  zeal  with  which  he 
pushed  his  schemes  of  building  as  soon  as  the 
cares  of  conquest  gave  him  time.  "The  second 
Kome  lifts  herself,"  he  says,  "in  new  unwonted 
bloom  with  massive  buildings  whose  lofty  domes 
touch  the  stars.  The  godly  Charles  stands  far 
from  his  palace  selecting  the  various  sites,  and 
fixes  in  their  order  the  high  walls  of  the  future 
Kome."  For  his  enormous  building-work  Charles 
collected  workmen  "from  all  the  countries  this 
side  the  sea,"  meaning  presumably  the  Mediter- 
ranean. He  included  doubtless  Italy,  though  the 
times  were  changed  since  in  the  middle  of  the 
sixth  century  Bishop  Nicetius  had  to  send  there 
for  workmen  to  restore  his  cathedral.  By  this 
time  also  there  had  been  a  considerable  growth  in 
church  building  under  the  impulse  of  the  mission- 
ary monks  ;  at  Fontanelle  in  Normandy  there  had 
grown  up  a  community  of  builders,  an  early  ex- 
ample of  those  which  became  afterward  charac- 
teristic of  the  great  monasteries.  From  this  com- 
munity came  the  monk  Ansegis,  Charlemagne's 
architect  or  superintendent  of  building,  who  after 
the  emperor's  death  returned  to  his  convent  as 
abbot.  He  had  before  this  been  succeeded  in  the 
direction  of  the  buildings  by  Eginhard  himself; 
and  there  is  again  a  touch  of  humor  in  the  story 


176  ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE 

that  this  minister,  anticipating  the  Alberti  of 
seven  hundred  years  later,  betook  himself  seri- 
ously to  the  study  of  Yitruvius.  Surely  the 
buildings  which  came  of  this  study  would  have 
struck  the  architect  of  Augustus  with  wonder. 

The  Komanesque  builder,  I  have  said,  had  a 
perfectly  free  hand.  Not  only  had  the  classical 
Order  been  broken  up  and  thrown  aside,  so  that 
there  is  not,  I  believe,  in  the  whole  course  of 
Eomanesque  building  any  sign  of  an  attempt  to 
revive  it — I  am  speaking  of  the  main  body  of  the 
Eomanesque — but  what  is  perhaps  more  natural, 
the  classic  idea  of  design,  the  mode  of  proceeding 
was  also  lost,  the  idea  of  using  a  fixed  architectural 
element  like  the  order  and  enlarging  it  to  suit  the 
size  of  the  building.  The  order,  as  we  saw,  was 
in  classic  architecture  enlarged  or  diminished,  as 
the  building  was  made  larger  or  smaller,  so  that 
a  great  temple  was  a  small  one  magnified.  This 
resulted  in  an  absolute  difference  of  method  in 
design  between  the  two  styles,  a  difference  which 
was  not  lost  till  the  classic  method  was  brought 
back  in  the  Kenaissance.  The  Christian  builders, 
on  the  contrary,  from  the  earliest  churches  that 
we  know,  those  of  Charlemagne's  reign,  used  ele- 
ments that  were  comparatively  uniform ;  if  the 
church  were  larger,  the  number  of  elements  was 
increased,  not  their  scale.  The  unit  of  size  was 
practically  the  intercolumniatiou,  that  is,  the  width 


ROJIANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE  177 

of  the  arch.  It  is  singular  to  notice  that  this  unit 
did  not  vary  materially  .among  all  the  basilicas 
that  are  known  to  us,  in  Kome  or  Kavenna  or 
the  other  Italian  towns,  in  Syria  or  Palestine 
or  Africa.  The  original  basilica  of  St.  Peter  had 
arcades  of  twenty-four  arches,  the  little  ones  of 
Syria  perhaps  a  half  a  dozen,  but  in  all  these 
examples,  and  even  in  the  round  churches,  the 
distance  from  centre  to  centre  of  the  columns 
hardly  varies  from  ten  or  twelve  feet.^  We  can- 
not say  what,  in  the  consciousness  of  the  builders, 
gave  the  scale  to  all  these  churches — whether  it 
was  the  convenience  of  constructing  the  arches, 
which  masons  of  small  skill  would  not  willingly 
build  much  larger  than  these,  or  the  size  of  the 
columns  which  were  at  their  disposal,  or  the  com- 
bination of  the  two.  The  proportion  of  the 
arched  interval,  which  came  in  the  progress  of  the 
Romanesque  to  fluctuate  largely,  did  not  in  the 
early  churches  differ  greatly  from  that  which  the 
Eomans  had  fixed  upon,  and  the  columns  are,  on 
the  whole,  as  uniform  in  size  as  the  arches.  It  is 
astonishing  at  first  thought  that  the  builders  could 
have  found  ready-made  so  many  thousands  of 
columns  fifteen  or  eighteen  feet  high,  and  have 

^  There  is  a  marked  exception  in  two  of  the  churches  of 
Central  Syria,  at  Suweda  and  Ruweiha.  In  Ruweiha  where, 
to  be  sure,  the  arches  rest  on  piers,  they  are  as  wide  as  the 
nave. 


178  ROAfANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE 

used  such  a  small  proportion  which  vary  much 
from  these  limits.  One  is  tempted  to  believe 
that  it  was  the  habit  of  the  Empire  to  build  to 
this  scale.  We  know  that  the  Eomans,  unlike  the 
Greeks,  liked  to  build  in  stories  with  an  order  to 
each  story,  when  the  building  was  not  a  temple  or 
some  other  great  monumental  structure.  A  col- 
umn sixteen  feet  high  means  an  order  twenty  feet 
high,  or,  if  a  pedestal  is  added  for  the  sake 
of  dignity,  perhaps  twenty-four  or  twenty-five. 
These  dimensions,  account  being  taken  of  climate 
and  human  habits,  seem  natural  enough  for  the 
stories  of  such  domestic  and  civic  buildings — 
palaces,  villas,  porticos  and  the  like — as  were  of 
pretension  enough  to  be  adorned  with  orders,  and 
they  chime  well  with  Italian  habits  of  building  in 
later  times.  The  question  is  perhaps  worth  in- 
vestigation if  any  one  is  found  ready  to  study  it 
in  the  scanty  remains  of  Roman  civic  and  domes- 
tic architecture. 

This  habit  of  proportion,  once  established,  lasted 
all  through  the  Middle  Ages.  The  scale  of  the 
parts  of  a  building  had  been  adjusted  no  longer 
to  an  artistic  system  but  to  the  convenience  of 
man,  and  indirectly  to  his  stature.  It  never 
again,  till  the  revival  of  classic  architecture,  be- 
came the  habit  to  set  up  columns  of  such  size  as 
to  dwarf  the  human  beings  who  gathered  about 
their  bases,  or  to  call  for  enormous  labor  in  hand- 


CATH EDRAL— GENOA 
South  Doorway 


ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE  179 

liug  them.  The  practical  man  had  taken  building 
in  charge.  Struggling  from  the  first  with  con- 
structive difficulties  which  bore  hard  on  the  im- 
perfect skill  of  his  generation,  he  henceforth  gave 
himself  up  to  working  out  the  mechanical  proc- 
esses of  construction,  and  shaped  his  slow-grow- 
ing artistic  sense  by  their  guidance.  Komanesque 
architecture,  and  after  it  Gothic,  became  as  abso- 
lutely constructive  as  the  Eoman  had  been  con- 
ventionally artistic.  When  with  the  development 
of  their  style,  the  churches  grew  lofty  and  compli- 
cated in  structure  and  the  builders  wanted  to  use 
tall  pillars,  they  did  not  increase  the  thickness  of 
the  shafts  accordingly.  On  the  contrary,  while 
they  grouped  and  multiplied  the  shafts,  they 
thinned  them  down  to  suit  the  semblance  of  their 
relative  constructive  importance,  without  regard 
to  their  increasing  height,  till  they  looked  like 
clusters  of  reeds.  The  capitals  and  bases,  which 
in  the  classic  style  had  been  proportioned  to  their 
height,  remained  approximately  the  same,  however 
tall  the  shaft  grew.  Cornices  and  string-courses, 
mouldings  and  capitals,  did  not  expand  as  build- 
ings grew  large.  Though  the  interiors  of  the 
larger  churches  were  more  open  and  the  spans  of 
their  arches  in  time  were  widened,  the  scale  of  the 
details  did  not  increase  in  proportion — the  differ- 
ence between  a  smaller  church  and  a  larger  one 
was  not  based  upon  the  size  of  the  parts,  as  in  a 


180 


ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE 


Greek  or  Koman  temple,  but  on  the  accumulation 
of  them.  This  comparative  fixity  of  size  in  details 
gave  a  standard  of  measurement  which  insensibly 
accustoms  the  eye  to  judge  of  dimensions,  and  to 
compare  one  with  another.  There  is  no  need  to 
cast  about  for  something  to  give  scale  to  a  medi- 
aeval building.  The  scale  is  there,  and  the  specta- 
tor is  spared  that  disappointment  in  the  apparent 
size  of  the  churches  of  the  Middle  Ages  which  he 
too  often  feels  in  classical  buildings. 


IV 

Smallness  of  material  goes  naturally  with  small- 
ness  of  details,  and  arches  and  vaults  are  more 
easily  laid  with  small  stones  than  with  great. 
The  mediaeval  system  facilitated  the  Avork  of  the 
builder  enormously.  There  was  no  need  of  mono- 
lithic shafts  or  big  blocks  of  stone.  The  largest 
churches  were  built  of  stones  that  could  be  got 
into  their  places  by  hand,  without  calling  for  the 
prodigious  appliances  which  the  Egyptian  and 
Roman  builders  must  have  used.  The  work  could 
be  carried  on  rapidly.  It  did  not  demand  the 
massing  of  men  in  battalions,  as  we  see  them 
sculptured  on  Egyptian  walls,  but  allowed  of  in- 
definite subdivision,  each  man  to  his  own  part. 
At  the  same  time  increasing  complexity  of  con- 
struction led,  as  we  shall  see,  to  close  discrimina- 


ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE  181 

tiou  of  the  office  of  every  part  and  detail  in  the 
structure,  to  separate  expression  of  every  function 
in  the  forms.  When  at  last  we  come  to  the  Gothic 
builder,  so  free  and  facile  that  he  would  cover  his 
whole  building  with  decoration,  the  constructive 
instinct  was  almost  abnormally  intensified  in  him, 
so  that  his  smallest  detail  must  justify  itself  to 
him  by  at  least  a  semblance  of  mechanical  pur- 
pose. The  full  florescence  of  Gothic  architecture 
suggests,  if  I  may  venture  on  so  medical  a  simile, 
an  actual  hysteria  of  construction.  Only  rare  dec- 
orative grace  and  a  marvellously  free  fancy  could 
save  it  at  its  best  from  such  a  pedantic  dryness  as 
did  overtake  its  last  stages. 

The  columns  which  were  borrowed  from  Roman 
buildings  for  the  earliest  churches  had  a  monu- 
mental value  of  their  own  apart  from  their  archi- 
tectural office.  The  chroniclers  lay  great  stress  on 
the  value  of  the  marbles.  Tarn  marmora  quamque 
musiva,  says  the  writer  who  describes  Charle- 
magne's plunderings  from  Ravenna :  it  is  marmor 
pretiosum  again  when  we  are  told  of  the  columns 
brought  for  the  cathedral  at  Magdeburg.  Apart 
from  the  difficulty  of  cutting  them,  for  which  the 
early  Christian  workmen  lacked  skill,  and  the  fact 
that  it  was  easier  to  steal  than  to  reproduce,  the 
beauty  and  variety  of  the  substance  was  tempta- 
tion enough.  The  column,  as  it  had  been  the  most 
important  ornamental  feature  of  Roman  architect- 


182  ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE 

lire,  became  the  one  structural  adornment  of  the 
churches ;  to  many  it  gave  the  only  beauty  they 
possessed.  In  remote  places,  where  old  marbles 
■were  not  easily  come  at,  and  piers  had  to  be  used 
to  support  the  main  arcades,  if  a  few  columns  or 
a  pair  could  be  had,  they  were  reserved  for  the 
adornment  of  the  most  sacred  part  of  the  church. 
Far  down  into  the  twelfth  century  and  even  the 
thirteenth,  when  the  form  and  details  of  the 
churches  had  been  thoroughly  elaborated,  and  the 
richly  clustered  pier  had  established  itself  as  the 
normal  support  of  the  arcades,  the  column  was 
preferred,  at  least  in  France,  for  the  circuit  of  the 
choir.  In  the  Komanesque  the  column  ^  was  every- 
where the  builder's  pet  child.  As  soon  as  he  ac- 
quired skill  to  make  them  easily  for  himself  he 
abandoned  the  classical  stature  and  made  them  of 
various  sizes,  but  chiefly  small,  reserving  them 
mostly  for  decorative  positions,  and  leaving  his 
hard  work  to  be  done  by  piers.  It  seemed  that  he 
never  could  accumulate  enough  to  satisfy  his  de- 
sire. The  belfry  stage  of  the  old  tower  of  St. 
Front  in  Perigueux  is  a  mere  stockade  of  columns, 
with  hardly  room  to  pass  one's  arm  between 
them.  The  fagade  of  Sta.  Maria  della  Pieve  at 
Arezzo  is  covered  by  a  throng  of  columns  stand- 

*  In  all  strictness  the  name  column  belongs  to  classic  architect- 
ure, but  there  is  no  other  suitable  name  for  the  same  thing  iu 
other  styles,  and  I  use  it  here  freely,  as  it  is  most  often  used. 


ROMANESqVE  ARCHITECTURE  183 

ing  on  shelves  as  if  exposed  for  sale,  and  bearing 
small  arcades,  while  the  upper  story  fairly  disap- 
pears behind  a  fence  of  them,  too  thick  set  to 
carry  any  arches  at  all.  So  fond  of  them  the  build- 
er grew  that  he  sought  out  and  invented  places 
to  put  them.  He  cut  them  in  halves  and  set  them 
up  like  buttresses  against  the  walls  of  fa9ades  and 
apses,  running  them  into  the  cornices;  he  made 
nooks  for  them  and  set  them  fourfold,  sixfold,  ten- 
fold, in  the  jambs  of  doors,  where  the  early  Chris- 
tian builders  had  posted  them  as  sentinels  in 
pairs,  like  Jachin  and  Boaz  in  the  porch  of  Solo- 
mon's temple ;  he  thrust  them  into  his  windows 
for  mullions  ;  he  cut  out  hollows  to  hold  them  in 
the  angles  of  walls  and  buttresses.  In  some  places 
and  in  moments  of  transition  he  built  great  tower- 
like piers  in  the  form  of  shafts,  after  the  manner 
of  those  of  Karnak,  as  in  the  abbey  of  Montmajour 
and  the  nave  of  the  cathedral  of  Durham ;  or  later 
he  occasionally  made  stout  columns  to  carry  the 
great  niches  and  nave-walls,  as  in  San  Zeno  at 
Yerona  and  the  cathedral  of  Paris.  But  usually 
he  clustered  them  about  piers,  making  them  no 
larger  than  his  own  body,  and  thinning  them 
down  from  that  to  the  smallest  thing  that  could 
stand  alone  in  stone,  or  even  to  slender  rods  which, 
engaged  on  one  side  in  a  pier  or  wall,  were  really 
strips  of  moulding  fitted  with  capitals  and  bases. 
These  multiplied  upright  lines,  distributed  in 


184  ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE 

groups,  served,  like  the  horizontal  mouldings  of 
classic  architecture,  to  mark  the  natural  subdivi- 
sions of  the  composition,  to  emphasize  the  mode 
of  its  construction,  to  give  richness  and  the  con- 
trast of  line  with  surface.  The  classic  architect 
enforced  the  uprightness  of  his  column  by  flutings 
and  channels,  and  his  structure  of  beams  by  the 
horizontal  lines  of  architecture  and  cornice.  The 
mediaeval  builder,  to  whom  his  shafts  and  arches 
were  everything,  made  light  of  his  horizontal 
members,  emphasizing  them  no  more  than  the  nat- 
ural division  of  his  stories  called  for,  and  contin- 
ually multiplying  his  verticals.  The  panelling  of 
walls  by  pilaster-strips,  which  began  even  in  the 
Latin  period  and  was  continued  or  resumed  in  the 
Romanesque,  enhanced  rather  than  diminished 
their  look  of  solidity.  Through  all  its  changes 
Romanesque  architecture  kept  much  of  the  mas- 
siveness  and  consequent  air  of  repose  which  dis- 
tinguished it  from  the  Gothic.  The  arches  were 
always,  at  least  in  the  exteriors,  openings  in  a 
broad  wall,  and  never  took  on  that  frame-like 
aspect  which  Gothic  construction  gave  them.  So 
long  as  the  distinguishing  form,  the  round  arch, 
was  retained,  the  natural  structure  of  masonry  in 
horizontal  courses  was  not  put  out  of  sight,  string- 
courses and  cornices  were  not  slighted.  Buildings 
preserved  a  fair  breadth  of  tranquil  surface,  a 
happy  balance  of  line  and  mass,  of  movement  and 


ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE  185 

repose.  But  meanwhile  a  gradual  change  went 
on,  and  upright  lines  came  to  more  and  more  em- 
phasis. As  constructive  needs  dictated,  piers  were 
more  subdivided,  flat  pilaster-strips  swelled  into 
buttresses,  round  apses  became  polygonal,  round 
towers  octagonal,  surfaces  were  divided,  but  al- 
ways vertically,  angles  and  lines  multiplied.  At 
last  the  lines  became  more  interesting  to  the  build- 
er than  the  surface,  and  he  sought  opportunity 
to  accumulate  them.  Their  upward  spring  fasci- 
nated him ;  he  built  as  high  as  he  dared.  The 
constructive  effort  to  hold  up  his  heavy  vaults 
challenged  expression.  The  time  of  the  transition 
came ;  his  Gothic  arches  were  sharpened  to  points ; 
roofs  grew  high  and  steep;  towers  were  multi- 
plied and  crowned  with  tall  spires ;  buttresses 
were  set  on  every  angle  whether  they  were  needed 
or  not,  and  finials  upon  them  even  more  for  the 
sake  of  the  upward  pointing  than  for  their  con- 
structive value  ;  horizontal  lines  were  cut  through 
and  elbowed  aside ;  the  very  wall  to  which  Ko- 
manesque  architecture  had  owed  its  distinctive 
character  was  suppressed  as  an  intruder.  The 
eastern  end  of  the  cathedral  of  Amiens  looks  from 
without  more  like  a  huge  stack  of  upright  beams 
and  poles  than  like  a  walled  church.  It  is  curi- 
ous to  note  the  returning  analogy  between  the 
extremes  of  European  building.  Greek  architect- 
ure had  been  a  cunning  frame  of  beams  of  stone, 


186  ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE 

upright  and  horizontal,  fitted  together  like  cabinet 
work,  with  the  wall  dissembled  behind  them  ; 
Gothic  became  a  frame  of  shafts  and  buttresses,  of 
oblique  props,  and  arches  that  were  curved  braces, 
with  the  walls  rejected  altogether.  Greek  had  held 
with  a  stately  content  to  the  level  lines  of  the 
earth  and  the  sea ;  Gothic  spent  itself  in  the  up- 
ward rush  of  an  impetuous  aspiration.  The  im- 
perial architecture  and  the  Romanesque  its  suc- 
cessor were  those  of  massive  walls  and  unstrained 
arches,  here  sumptuous  and  there  severe,  apt  alike 
to  express  repose  or  energy. 

As  the  lines  of  the  shafts  accumulated,  so  did 
the  lines  of  the  arches — perhaps  sooner,  for  it  is 
difficult  to  determine  the  sequence  of  changes.^ 
The  distinction  of  the  arch  is  its  curve,  and  the 
natural  instinct  is  to  emphasize  this  by  repeating 
it ;  so  the  Roman  builders  did,  by  carrying  the 
form  of  the  banded  architrave  about  it  as  an  archi- 
volt ;  they  kept  the  soffit  square  and  decorated  it 
by  panelling,  like  the  architrave.  The  Roman- 
esque builders  treated  the  arch  with  more  vigor,  or 

^  The  compound  or  broken  pier  seems  pretty  clearly  to  have 
been  composed  at  first  of  the  united  jambs  of  arches  that  abut- 
ted at  right  angles,  as  where  the  arcades  of  the  nave  met  the  tri- 
umphal arch.  As  early  as  the  first  half  of  the  sixth  century  the 
windows  of  San  Apollinare  in  Classe  were  circumscribed  by  a 
concentric  round-headed  panel.  It  is  but  one  step  from  this  to 
the  double  recessed  arch,  which  indeed  appears  in  the  apse  of 
Sta.  Sofia  at  Constantinople. 


HOJTANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE  187 

at  first  more  rudely,  and  broke  it  into  recesses  or 
steps  corresponding  to  those  in  the  pier  or  jamb 
that  supported  it.  This  at  once  gave  importance 
to  the  arch,  enforcing  its  lines  with  more  boldness, 
and  establishing  an  intimate  connection  with  its 
supports  which  was  lacking  to  the  Koman.  When 
the  steps  or  nooks  were  multiplied,  as  in  the  door- 
ways, and  those  in  the  jambs  were  filled  with 
shafts,  it  was  natural  to  fill  those  in  the  arch  with 
mouldings  that  answered  to  the  shafts.  So  a  still 
closer  union  was  made  between  the  arch  and  the 
jamb,  and  so  were  designed  those  deep,  expand- 
ing, hospitable  doorways,  charged  with  all  man- 
ner of  carved  ornament,  which  delight  us  in  the 
twelfth- century  churches.  They  joined  arch  to 
arch  as  they  joined  shaft  to  shaft.  Their  pictu- 
resque arcades  make  the  glory  of  the  so-called 
Lombard  style,  enlivening  the  walls,  and  making 
deep  shadows  under  the  eaves,  of  countless 
churches  throughout  Italy  and  Germany ;  they 
lined  the  cloistered  courts  of  the  monks  for  cen- 
tury after  century  all  over  Europe,  from  the  rude 
arcades  of  San  Stefano,  in  Bologna,  to  the  grace- 
ful galleries  of  St.  Trophime  at  Aries,  and  those 
that  mark  the-  transition  to  the  Renaissance  in  the 
Certosa  at  Pavia.  Where  there  was  no  room  for 
shafts  to  carry  the  arches  they  accumulated  them 
in  cornices  and  corbel-tables.  With  the  vigorous 
constructive  habit  of  which  I  have  spoken,  their 


188  ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE 

effective  guide  because  they  had  no  other,  if  for 
no  different  reason,  they  made  the  column  the 
chief  means  of  their  decoration  and  expression, 
while  the  properties  of  the  arch  practically  con- 
trolled  the  structural  forms  of  their  buildings. 

V 

Although  the  accidents  of  fire  and  instability 
and  the  destructiveness  of  a  growing  ambition 
were,  as  we  see  them  to  be  in  our  own  country 
and  century,  the  chief  occasions  of  improvement, 
it  was  natural  that  the  men  of  the  Middle  Ages 
should  try  hard  to  build  churches  that  would  not 
have  to  be  constantly  renewed.  Inasmuch  as  the 
wooden  roofs  were  the  most  vulnerable  parts  they 
worked  with  dogged  persistence  through  centuries 
to  devise  a  practicable  roofing  of  stone.  The 
builders  of  the  Empire  had  contrived  an  excellent 
system  of  vaulting,  but  it  required  skilful  plan- 
ning and  ponderous  abutments ;  it  was  incompat- 
ible with  the  high,  thin  walls  of  the  churches,  and 
the  art  of  constructing  it  was  lost.  The  story  of 
the  mediaeval  experiments  is  long,  difiScult,  and  in- 
tricate— I  shall  be  easily  forgiven  for  not  trying 
to  write  it  here.  The  history  of  vaulting  is  prac- 
tically the  history  of  mediaeval  architecture.  It 
was  also  the  history  of  a  new  type  of  church,  the 
cruciform.    I  have  said  in  the  essay  on  the  Age 


ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE  189 

of  Constantine  that  tlie  cruciform  type  was  not 
early  Christian,  and  that  it  was  never  naturalized 
in  Rome  till  the  Renaissance  ;  that  in  the  Roman 
type  the  transept  was  not  two  arms,  but  one  body ; 
that  the  nave  did  not  pass  through  it,  but  abutted 
against  it,  as  the  staif  of  a  crutch  abuts  against 
the  shoulder-piece.  In  the  cruciform  church  the 
nave  and  the  transept  interpenetrated.  Their  in- 
tersection, the  crossing,  belonged  structurally  to 
both,  and  the  nave  was  prolonged  beyond  the 
crossing  in  an  eastern  arm  to  the  end  of  which  the 
apse  was  removed.  The  transept  arms  were  very 
often  separated  by  the  expansion  of  the  choir, ^ 
which  occupied  the  eastern  arm,  and  which  occa- 
sionally even  extended  some  distance  down  the 
nave.  The  cruciform  type,  once  established,  which 
it  hardly  was  before  the  end  of  the  eleventh  cen- 
tury, became  the  model  which  lasted  till  the  Re- 
naissance, and  in  less  strict  form  has  lasted  ever 
since.  The  great  churches  of  the  twelfth  century 
and  of  the  Gothic  period  were  built  according  to 
it. 

The  most  important  characteristic  of  the  cruci- 
form church — more  significant  in  truth  than  the 
fact  that  it  was  cruciform — was  its  division  into 

'  By  the  choir  I  mean  that  part  of  the  church,  greater  or  less, 
which  was  set  apart  for  the  celebration  of  the  service,  and 
which  was  the  outgrowth  of  the  Chorus  Psallentium  of  the  early 
Christian  churches.  It  la  always  the  eastern  arm,  often  some- 
thing more. 


190  ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE 

bays.  I  have  said  that  the  unit  of  size  of  the 
basilicas  was  the  arch — one  measures  their  size 
by  counting  the  arches.  But  there  is  no  unit  of 
construction  ;  as  the  Germans  would  say,  there  is 
nothing  organic  in  their  design.  The  walls  in  the 
aisles  and  above  the  arcades  are  perfectlj^  flat  and 
uniform,  broken  only  by  the  windows,  which  may 
or  may  not  correspond  with  the  arches.  The  de- 
veloped Romanesque  church  or  the  Gothic  church 
is  divided  into  bays  corresponding  to  a  single 
arch,  or  sometimes  to  two,  by  shafts  which  run  up 
the  clerestory  walls  and  by  arches  or  vaulting-ribs 
which  cross  the  nave  and  aisles.  The  arms  of  the 
cross  are  thus  divided  into  units  of  construction. 
They  are  jointed,  as  it  were,  like  a  vertebrate  ani- 
mal ;  the  size  of  the  church  depending  on  the 
number  of  joints.  They  might  be  built  in  sec- 
tions, each  complete  as  far  as  it  went,  and  in  fact 
they  were  very  commonly  so  built,  being  begun  at 
the  east  end  and  continued  westward  as  fast  and 
as  far  as  money  was  found  to  carry  them.  They 
often  went  on  in  this  way  year  by  year,  generation 
by  generation;  the  history  of  such  building  is 
written  on  the  interiors  of  many  churches ;  some- 
times a  blank  wall  across  the  end  shows  where 
the  last  funds  gave  out,  leaving  the  western  bays 
unbuilt.  One  bay  thus  came  to  be  a  model  for 
all  the  parts  of  the  church,  and  its  design  once 
achieved,  the  rest  was  only  the  assembling  of  the 


CATHEDRAL— PARMA 
Double  Bays  and  Clustered  Piers 


ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE  191 

right  number  of  parts,  like  laying  a  pavement. 
Given  adequate  drawings  of  a  single  bay  of  the 
cathedral  of  Cologne,  and  such  a  sketch-plan  as 
could  be  held  in  the  palm  of  the  hand,  we  could 
build  from  them  the  whole  church,  ready  for  the 
apse,  the  facades,  and  the  towers.  The  bay  at  last 
became,  again  with  an  analogy  to  classic  art,  a  pat- 
tern or  formula  out  of  w^hich  a  whole  church  could 
be  educed,  as  a  Greek  temple  or  stoa  could  be 
educed  from  an  order.  The  difference  was  that 
while  the  limits  of  variation  were  very  narrow  in 
the  order,  in  the  mediaeval  bay  they  were  very 
wide.  In  the  order  they  hardly  went  beyond 
slightly  lengthening  or  shortening  the  column  and 
varying  the  curve  of  a  moulding.  In  the  bay, 
although  the  general  ordinance  of  an  arch  be- 
tween its  two  supports  and  a  wall  above  carrying 
its  section  of  vault  on  wall  shafts  was  essential, 
there  remained  the  proportion  of  parts,  the  choice 
of  shaft  or  pier,  the  outline  of  piers,  the  forms  of 
capitals,  the  shape  of  vault  and  distribution  of 
shafts,  the  use  or  neglect  of  triforium  and  even  of 
clerestory.  These  were  all  at  the  designer's  pleas- 
ure, and  his  pleasure  so  varied  that  it  is  as  hard 
to  find  among  the  thousands  of  mediaeval  churches 
that  remain  to  us  two  bays  in  different  ones  that 
are  quite  alike,  as  to  find  two  oak-leaves  that  will 
match. 

The  invention  of  the  bay  was  as  useful  for  con- 


192  ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE 

struction  as  for  design,  as  soon  as  the  problem  of 
vaulting  was  attacked.  The  Roman  vaults  had 
been  continuous  geometric  cylinders  to  whose 
surface  a  mason's  line  or  straight-edge,  laid  par- 
allel to  its  axis,  would  have  fitted  close  from  end 
to  end,  and  unbroken  by  any  ribs,  even  where 
they  were  groined,  though  chains  of  brickwork 
were  often  let  in,  when  the  shells  were  of  concrete, 
to  strengthen  them  while  they  were  fresh.  If 
they  were  groined,  it  was  by  intersection  with 
other  cylinders  of  the  same  kind.  Such  vaults, 
being  continuous,  gave  no  places  to  stop,  and 
must  be  built  continuously  from  end  to  end,  or 
else  a  ragged  and  unstable  edge  of  masonry  was 
left,  which  involved  an  ugly  patching.  To  make 
the  groins  look  well  required  a  precision  of  work- 
manship which  the  Romanesque  builders  up  to 
the  twelfth  century  did  not  have.  But  when  the 
builders  learned  to  divide  the  vault  into  separate 
compartments  by  heavy  projecting  ribs  which 
they  carried  across  the  aisle  or  nave  from  pier  to 
pier,  they  had  a  series  of  sections  which  could  be 
built  one  by  one,  each  complete  and  squarely  fin- 
ished. They  would  naturally  build  with  less 
scaffolding ;  there  was  no  need  for  so  careful  ad- 
justment of  the  surface,  and  imperfection  of  form 
was  masked  by  the  heavy  ribs.  Moreover — what 
is  perhaps  more  decisive,  as  men  are  made — there 
was  a  natural  occasion  for  stopping  at  one  place 


ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE  193 

ratlier  tlian  another,  that  is,  at  a  rib;  the  work 
could  be  left  visibly  complete  as  far  as  it  went. 

It  is  not  easy  to  discover  the  beginning  of  the 
use  of  the  bay,  or  of  the  vaulting  of  churches,  or 
when  and  where  the  nave  first  penetrated  through 
the  transept  and  gave  the  church  the  shape  of  the 
cross,  or  to  judge  whether  Italians  or  Germans, 
lay  builders  or  monastic  builders,  were  the  leaders. 
But  apparently  the  vaulting  was  not  seriously  un- 
dertaken until  the  division  into  bays  was  achieved 
— or  at  least  the  idea  of  a  bay  distinctly  cut  off 
from  the  adjoining  parts.  It  is  singular  that  the 
first  example  of  this,  as  of  so  many  other  medi- 
aeval ideas,  is  to  be  found  among  tlie  early 
churches  of  Syria.  The  church  of  Ruweiha  al- 
ready noticed,  although  not  cruciform  and  prob- 
ably of  the  sixth  century,  is  divided  in  pure 
Romanesque  form  into  square  bays  which  are 
separated  by  high  orders  across  the  nave  bearing 
upper  walls  that  reach  the  roof.  The  piers  are 
subdivided  in  Romanesque  fashion  into  pilasters 
apportioned  to  the  different  arches,  and  those 
which  carry  the  cross  arches  have  capitals  high 
up  above  the  rest.  The  whole  might  have  be- 
longed to  a  Romanesque  church  of  the  twelfth 
century.  Yet  there  seems  to  have  been  no  echo 
of  this  in  any  early  basilica  of  Italy  or  Germany. 
It  is  to  the  circular  or  polygonal  aisles  of  the 
round  churches  that  we  must  look  for  the  first  di- 


194  BOMANESQim  ARCHITECTURE 

vision  into  bays,  of  whicli  the  Byzantine  churches, 
indeed,  had  set  the  example.  Here  in  the  round 
churches  the  necessity,  real  or  supposed,  of  but- 
tressing the  inner  ring-wall  against  the  thrust  of 
the  dome  led  to  vaulting  the  aisles  from  the  be- 
ginning, and  the  convenience  of  vaulting  to  the 
division  into  bays.  We  see  this  in  San  Yitale  of 
Bavenna  in  the  sixth  century ;  it  was  probably 
revived  next  in  the  Rotonda  of  Brescia,  if  we 
may  believe  the  tradition  that  this  was  built  by 
the  all-pervading  Theudelinde  at  the  beginning  of 
the  seventh  century  or  by  later  Lombards  at  the 
end  of  it.  It  was  repeated  by  Charlemagne  in  his 
minster  at  Aachen  at  the  beginning  of  the  ninth. 
Cattaneo,  perhaps  the  best-informed  student  of 
early  Italian  architecture,  argues  that  the  bay  was 
first  set  off  in  the  basilican  churches  when  the 
monks,  to  provide  a  sheltered  nook  for  their  mid- 
night services,  walled  off  from  the  aisles  or  tran- 
sept a  section  of  the  nave  next  the  apse,  and 
vaulted  it.  He  finds  the  first  recognizable  case 
in  San  Ambrogio  at  Milan,  which  was  turned  over 
to  a  colony  of  monks  at  the  beginning  of  the  ninth 
century.  If  this  theory  is  right— and  the  plans 
of  St.  Gall  and  the  arrangement  of  various  early 
monastic  churches  in  Germany  accord  with  it — 
the  innovation  meant  in  churches  with  a  transept 
the  prolongation  of  the  nave  beyond  the  transept, 
and  so  directly  made  them  cruciform.    Thus  it 


ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE  195 

would  accomplish  at  once  the  transformation  to 
a  cruciform  plan,  the  establishment  of  a  vaulted 
bay,  and  by  the  meeting  of  cross  and  longitudinal 
arches  the  establishment  of  the  compound  pier, 
all  before  the  end  of  the  ninth  century.  But  we 
have  seen  that  the  next  hundred  years  were  a  dis- 
astrous time  for  architecture,  and  that  not  till  the 
beginning  of  the  eleventh  century  did  building 
revive  abundantly.  During  the  eleventh,  twelfth, 
and  thirteenth  centuries  it  looked  as  if  all  the 
active  force  of  the  world  that  could  be  spared 
from  fighting,  especially  north  of  the  Alps,  went 
into  architecture.  In  the  first  half  of  this  period, 
the  centre  of  progress,  it  would  seem,  shifted 
northward.  Germany  and  France,  where  the 
monks  had  most  numbers,  wealth,  and  influence, 
seem  to  have  led  the  development.  The  problems 
of  building  had  been  solved,  or  the  way  of  solu- 
tion had  been  pointed  out  in  the  struggling  period 
of  the  ninth  and  tenth  centuries.  The  prog- 
ress toward  the  perfected  church  of  the  twelfth 
looks  very  rapid  to  our  distant  eyes,  though  it 
took  a  hundred  years  of  eager  tentative  labor,  of 
alternate  advance  and  failure,  of  experiments  tried 
and  results  treasured  or  cast  aside.  With  a  unity 
of  effort  and  progress  that  seems  to  us  astonish- 
ing, considering  the  endless  subdivision  and  po- 
litical hostilities  of  the  time,  myriads  of  workmen 
in  communities  scattered  all  over  Europe  toiled 


196  ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE 

for  generation  after  generation  at  the  working  out 
of  one  ideal,  while  the  rich  of  the  world  gave 
their  wealth,  the  intelligent  and  pacific  their 
thought  and  care ;  even  the  princes  and  knights 
whose  lives  were  given  to  the  destruction  of  their 
neighbors  planned,  when  death  should  make  an 
end  for  them  of  war,  to  hallow  its  plunder  in 
building  churches  for  the  glory  of  the  religion  of 
peace. 

VI 

The  eleventh  century  was  spent  in  the  prelimi- 
nary work  of  learning  to  vault  the  aisles,  where 
the  want  of  a  solid  abutment  on  the  side  of  the 
nave  made  it  specially  difficult.  The  slender  col- 
umn was  hardly  sufficient  stay  against  the  pressure 
of  the  groining,  and  there  being  now  no  supply  of 
ancient  columns  to  be  had,  it  was  the  more  natural 
to  resort  to  piers.  The  cross-rib  called  for  a  spe- 
cial support  at  its  springing ;  therefore  pilasters, 
or  more  often  half-columns,  were  set  against  the 
pier  and  the  outer  wall  of  the  aisle.  Thus  in  the 
early  stages  was  established  the  characteristic 
habit  of  incorporating  in  the  pier  a  representative 
of  every  member  in  the  structure  above  which 
bore  upon  it.  It  bears  witness  to  the  close  pre- 
occupation of  the  builder's  mind  with  the  different 
strains  which  he  was  trying  to  group  and  with- 
stand ;  and  the  plan  of  the  pier  which  thus  em- 


ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE  197 

bodied  them  must  have  been  for  him,  to  use  the 
engineer  s  language,  a  diagram  of  stresses  to  be 
borne  in  mind  and  provided  for. 

The  covering  of  aisles  with  vaults  whose  span 
was  only  a  dozen  feet  or  so,  and  whose  height 
above  the  ground  was  hardly  more,  was  a  compar- 
atively simple  problem.  The  vaulting  of  crypts, 
which  began  as  early  as  the  ninth  century  and 
grew  with  that  cult  of  the  saints  that  led  to  an  ea- 
ger traffic  in  their  bodies  and  bones  all  over  Chris- 
tendom, had  been  naturally  a  school  for  the  more 
difficult  covering  of  churches.  Their  subterranean 
vaults,  divided  into  narrow  aisles,  amply  abutted 
by  the  solid  ground  and  having  nothing  but  the 
floors  of  the  churches  above  to  carry,  were  easily 
covered  with  groined  cylindrical  vaults,  in  whose 
capitals  the  extraordinary  innovation  of  the  Ger- 
mans in  ornamental  sculpture  first  shows  itself. 
The  vaulting  of  aisles  above  ground  had  been  done 
very  early,  we  have  seen,  by  the  Byzantine  archi- 
tects, and  in  the  western  round  churches.  The 
difficulty  did  not  tax  too  severely  the  unskilled 
masons  of  the  tenth  century.  But  to  construct  the 
vaults  of  a  nave  thirty  feet  wide  or  more,  and  ef- 
fectively stay  against  their  thrust  the  lighter  walls 
of  a  clerestory  fifty  feet  high,  balanced  on  the  pil- 
lars of  an  arcade,  was  a  different  and  a  perilous 
thing.  The  study  of  the  builders'  efforts  to  accom- 
plish this  is  very  interesting  to  the  sj^ecial  student, 


108  ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE 

and  equally  perplexing.  We  should  not  say,  as  I 
liave  heard  a  modern  engineer  contemptuously 
assert,  that  for  every  mediseval  vault  that  stood 
two  tumbled  down ;  yet  the  chronicles  of  the 
eleventh  century  are  full  of  stories  of  falling  of 
churches.  But  with  the  same  persistence  with 
which  their  forefathers  had  repeated  their  attacks 
on  the  Roman  Empire  through  defeat  after  defeat, 
the  builders  attacked  and  reattacked  the  difficul- 
ties of  their  building.  Experiment  after  experi- 
ment was  tried ;  failure  followed  failure ;  every 
failure  taught  something ;  one  succesful  device 
disengaged  itself  after  another ;  one  danger  after 
another  was  guarded  against,  till  by  the  twelfth 
century  the  workmen  had  learned  their  task.  They 
succeeded  in  building  vaults  over  their  naves  that 
would  stand  safe,  and  after  that  it  was  only  a  ques- 
tion of  evolving  the  most  satisfactory  form  for 
them.  Progress  was  fast,  and  this  century,  pro- 
ducing the  splendid  churches  of  the  finished  Ro- 
manesque, developed  that  sure-handed  skill  whose 
ease,  audacity,  and  grace,  after  the  change  to  the 
forms  of  pointed  Gothic,  we  admire  in  the  incom- 
parable vaults  of  Amiens  and  Beauvais. 

The  ways  that  opened  to  relieve  the  builders 
were  two — to  lighten  and  strengthen  their  mason- 
ry, and  to  distribute  and  counterpoise  the  pressures 
so  as  to  make  them  harmless.  To  build  a  shell  of 
concrete  half  a  yard  thick  in  the  Roman  fashion, 


ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE  199 

and  balance  it  safely  on  the  clerestory  walls  of  an 
early  basilica,  was  hopeless.  To  stay  a  Eoman 
vault  required  the  ponderous  abutments  of  the 
Komans.  The  slender  columns  with  which  the 
Christian  builders  began,  designed  to  support  four 
feet  of  entablature,  would  not  have  borne  a  high 
Koman  wall :  their  clerestories,  having  only  a  light 
wooden  roof  to  carry,  and  being  steadied,  not 
strained,  by  the  trusses,  were  as  light  as  they  could 
build  them.  The  Italian  masons  built  them  of 
brick,  which  makes  the  lightest  of  firm  walls  and 
the  firmest  of  light  walls.  The  men  of  the  north, 
not  having  Eoman  skill  or  Italian  brick,  but  with 
Roman  ruins  at  hand,  had  begun  by  imitating  as 
well  as  they  knew  the  Roman  walls  faced  with 
stones  and  filled  with  concrete  or  rubble.  They 
did  this  badly ;  their  walls  were  rude  and  weak, 
and  seem,  after  standing  a  few  years,  to  have  been 
continually  crumbling.  It  took  them  two  or  three 
troubled  centuries  to  educate  their  workmen  to 
even  tolerable  skill.  The  building  of  Charlemagne, 
with  all  the  help  of  mechanics  imported  from  Italy 
and  the  east,  is  rough  and  uncouth.  The  work- 
men had  to  learn  to  build  firm  walls  of  coursed 
stones,  to  cut  shafts  and  mouldings  and  capitals, 
to  build  close-jointed  piers  and  thin  vaulting  shells 
of  small  stones.  This  seems  not  to  have  been  ac- 
complished without  long  training  in  the  schools  of 
the  monks,  and  its  fruits  do  not  show  themselves 


200  ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE 

till  the  season  of  growth  that  began  with  the  elev- 
enth century.  It  is  possible  to  arrange  a  series  of 
examples  that  make  a  natural  sequence  from  the 
rudest  beginning  to  the  completest  result,  but  the 
difficulties  of  chronology  are  so  many  that  no  such 
sequence  has  been  proved  to  be  historically  exact ; 
at  various  points  we  are  left  to  inference  and 
probability.  The  division  of  the  nave  into  bays, 
which  followed  that  of  the  aisles,  seems  to  have 
preceded  the  vaulting,  for  there  are  many  churches 
so  divided  which  have  never  been  vaulted,  and 
many  others  where  a  vaulting  was  added  a  century 
or  more  after  the  church  was  built.  We  have  seen 
how  the  little  chiu'ch  of  Ruweiha  was  divided,  as 
early  as  the  sixth  century,  by  arches  which  bridge 
the  nave.  The  non -Lombard  Tuscan  chui-ch  of 
San  Miniato  at  Florence  is  a  well-known  example 
of  the  same  thing,  but  there  was  evidently  no  in- 
tention of  vaulting  it.  The  subdivision  of  the  nave 
by  alternate  supports,  indeed,  which  came  from  the 
east  and  is  suggested  very  early  in  the  naves  of 
St.  Demetrius  at  Thessalonica  (ca.  500)  and  of  Sta. 
Maria  in  Cosmedin  in  Bome  (780)  built  by,  or  for, 
a  colony  of  Greek  monks,  seems  to  have  charmed 
the  taste  of  the  northern  builders.  The  alterna- 
tion of  piers  and  columns,  or  some  other  way  of 
grouping  the  arches  by  twos  or  threes,  is  very  char- 
acteristic of  Romanesque  chiu'ches  in  Lombardy, 
Germany,  and  England,  and  even  appears  in 


ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE  201 

France.  The  churclies  of  San  Ambrogio  at  Milan, 
the  Trinite  at  Caen,  Waltham  Abbey,  the  cathe- 
drals of  Spejer,  Mainz,  Worms,  Meaux,  and  Noyon 
are  examples.  The  naves  being,  as  a  rule,  twice 
as  wide  as  the  aisles,  one  bay  of  the  nave  answered 
to  two  of  the  aisles,  and  both  remained  square,  or 
nearly  so.  This  introduced  an  element  of  variety 
in  harmony,  a  rhythmical  element,  as  German 
critics  like  to  call  it,  which  pleasantly  breaks  the 
monotony  of  the  long  arcades,  and  adds  the  dignity 
of  a  larger  unit,  while  it  does  not  sacrifice  scale, 
but  brings  animation  into  the  design  of  the  Eoman- 
esque  interiors.  It  is  one  of  the  most  attractive 
features  of  the  churches  of  the  eleventh  and  twelfth 
centuries,  one  which,  I  think,  the  eye  misses  in 
the  somewhat  monotonous  perspective  of  the  inte- 
riors of  the  thirteenth. 

When  it  came  to  vaulting  the  naves,  the  great 
square  compartments  that  covered  those  double 
bays  gave  them  an  air  of  special  nobility.  The 
dignified  amplitude  of  the  broad  vaults  of  the 
cathedrals  of  Speyer  and  Mainz,  for  instance,  and 
in  a  less  degree  the  six- part  vaults  of  the  subse- 
quent transition,  impress  the  spectator  by  compar- 
ison with  the  smaller  compartments  of  the  Gothic 
vaults.  The  subdivision  of  the  bays  by  the  smaller 
aisle-bays  preserves  their  scale,  and  redeems  them 
from  the  sparse  bareness  of  some  of  the  Italian 
Gothic  churches,  whose  great  undivided  bays.  Like 


202  ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE 

those  of  the  cathedral  of  Florence,  made  them  look 
bald  and  empty,  while  yet  they  destroy  the  im- 
pression of  their  size.  But  the  weight  of  these 
great  sections  of  vaulting,  four  times  as  large  as 
those  of  the  aisles,  made  them  so  much  the  more 
difficult  to  deal  with.  Bearing  down  with  their 
pendants  on  every  alternate  pair  of  piers,  they 
made  it  necessary  that  these  should  be  very  mas- 
sive, while  the  intermediate  piers  could  be  com- 
paratively slight,  in  some  cases  actually  reduced 
to  stout  columns.  This  again  added  to  the  effect 
of  contrast,  giving  more  emphasis  to  the  large 
bays  and  the  alternation  of  supports.  But  to 
stiffen  the  clerestory  wall  against  the  thrust  of 
these  heavy  vaults  was  the  chief  requirement. 
The  many  expedients  that  were  tried  necessarily 
amounted  to  one  of  two  things — building  against 
the  nave  wall  from  without,  or  increasing  its  own 
weight  and  rigidity.  The  first  could  be  done  and 
was  done  in  many  churches  by  increasing  the 
height  of  the  aisles  so  as  to  bring  the  pressure  of 
their  vaults  higher  against  the  walls  of  the  clere- 
story ;  and  this  led  to  an  increased  habit  of  adding 
an  upper  gallery  to  the  aisles  which  was  also 
vaulted,  its  vault  rising  high  enough  to  nearly 
contrabut  that  of  the  nave,  sometimes  quite,  as  in 
San  Ambrogio  at  Milan,  where  the  vault  of  the 
nave  actually  springs  from  the  level  of  the  floor  of 
the  upper  gallery.    Such  upper  aisles  are  common 


ROMANESqUE  ARCHITECTURE  203 

iu  German  cliiirclies  of  the  later  Komanesque,  and 
appear  even  as  late  as  the  transitional  cathedrals  at 
Paris,  Noyon,  Laon,  and  others,  as  well  as  in 
French  churches  of  the  eleventh  and  twelfth  cen- 
turies. But  in  other  churches,  such  as  the  great 
Khenish  cathedrals  of  Speyer  and  Mainz  begun  in 
the  eleventh  century,  whose  naves  are  over  forty 
feet  wide,  the  vaults  are  abutted  only  by  the  mas- 
sive clerestory  walls,  which  stand,  sheer  and  un- 
buttressed,  more  than  a  hundred  feet  above  the 
pavement.  This  calls  for  great  weight  of  piers 
and  walls ;  the  piers  are  heavy  and  close,  the  walls 
have  by  this  time  grown  so  thick  that  there  is 
room  in  their  thickness  for  the  outside  galleries 
of  which  Lombard  architects  were  fond,  which 
decorate  the  eaves  of  many  churches  on  the  Khine 
and  in  Lombardy,  or  for  the  triforium  passages 
that  became  common  in  France.  The  builders  of 
Auvergne,  in  the  middle  of  France,  found  a  way  of 
their  own  of  meeting  the  thrust  which  deserves  to 
be  mentioned.  They  covered  the  nave  with  a 
continuous  barrel- vault,  and  to  stay  this  vault  they 
built  tall  aisles  in  two  stories,  the  upper  gallery 
being  covered  by  the  half  of  a  similar  vault  whose 
crown  bore  against  the  wall  of  the  nave  near  the 
springing  of  the  main  vault,  and  made  a  continu- 
ous abutment  for  it.  The  lower  story  of  the 
aisles,  vaulted  sometimes  with  groining,  sometimes 
with  transverse  barrel  vaults,  stayed  moreover 


204  ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE 

witli  thick  walls  and  heavy  buttresses  which  by 
this  time  were  adopted,  made  a  massive  cellular 
structure,  solid  enough  to  withstand  the  whole 
pressure.  It  was  taking  the  bull  by  the  horns — 
for  the  great  vault  was  built  in  the  most  perilous 
shape,  needing  support  at  every  point  and  loaded 
moreover  in  many  cases  with  a  heavy  stone  roof — 
and  meeting  the  difficulty  in  Koman  fashion, 
though  not  in  Eoman  form,  by  sheer  weight  of 
masonry  ingeniously  disposed.  The  churches  of 
Notre  Dame  du  Port  at  Clermont  in  Auvergne, 
and  of  St.  Etienne  at  Nevers  are  fine  specimens 
of  this  treatment.  These  are  small  churches ;  would 
we  were  allowed  to  see  how  the  same  problem  was 
solved  by  the  builders  of  the  great  Benedictine 
church  of  Cluny,  whose  barrel- vaulted  nave,  of 
thirty-five  feet  span  and  more  than  a  hundred  feet 
high,  stood  firm  till  it  fell  before  the  sordid  dev- 
ilry of  the  French  revolution.  The  largest  and 
perhaps  the  finest  of  Romanesque  churches,  more 
than  550  feet  long,  with  double  transepts,  double 
aisles,  and  a  throng  of  towers — it  was  sold  at 
auction  for  its  materials  and  pulled  down.  It  is 
some  pleasure  to  know  that  this  performance 
brought  out  from  Napoleon,  when  as  emperor  he 
was  besought  to  visit  the  town,  the  scornful  retort : 
"  You  have  sold  and  destroyed  your  beautiful 
great  church.  Go,  you  are  Yandals,  I  will  not 
visit  Cluny." 


ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE  205 

But  this  ingenious  achievement  of  the  French 
builders  was  a  digression  from  the  direct  line  of 
development  that  was  followed  by  the  Germans 
and  the  men  of  the  north  of  France.  The  system 
was  too  heavy,  too  laborious,  and  therefore  too 
costly  to  prevail.  When  once  vaults  had  been 
made  to  stand  secure,  the  effort  was  to  lighten  con- 
struction, and  suppress  unnecessary  masonry.  The 
building  of  the  great  churches,  which  was  the  chief 
public  concern  of  the  communities  in  which  they 
were,  meant  a  prolonged  strain  on  their  resources 
and  energies ;  it  called  for  a  persistent  effort  to 
which  we  are  strangers  nowadays,  an  effort  of  gen- 
erations, sometimes  of  centuries.  No  wonder  that 
the  builders  were  eager  to  hasten  the  work  and  see 
the  result  of  their  sacrifices,  that  the  chronicles 
are  full  of  disasters  due  to  haste.  Their  construc- 
tive instinct,  sharpened  in  the  long  struggle  with 
mechanical  difficulties,  told  perhaps  as  efficiently 
in  the  same  direction.  They  evidently  took  de- 
light, as  they  went  on,  in  banishing  all  superfluous 
filling  from  their  buildings,  as  the  athlete  works 
off  his  superfluous  flesh.  Like  him  they  liked  to 
display  the  muscles  and  sinews  that  did  the  hard 
work  of  the  structure,  the  ribs  and  shafts  that  held 
it  together,  and  even  to  suggest  them  where  the 
construction  did  not  directly  discriminate  them. 
The  greatest  step  was  made  when  at  the  end  of 
the  Eomanesque  period  the  idea  occurred  of  set- 


20G  ROMANESqVE  ARCHITECTURE 

ting  independent  ribs  on  the  edges  of  the  groins, 
as  they  had  long  before  been  set  across  the  aisles 
under  the  surface  of  the  vaults.  Presently  also 
wall-ribs  were  set  against  the  wall  where  the  vault 
abutted.  This  once  done,  the  vaulting  was  divided 
into  a  series  of  comparatively  small  cells  to  be 
separately  constructed.  The  ribs  could  be  built 
first,  and  made  a  complete  skeleton — a  permanent 
scaffolding,  Yiollet-Le-Duc  called  them.  They 
were  built  as  suited  the  plan  of  the  vault  and  bore 
the  weight  and  dictated  the  shape  of  the  light 
shells  that  filled  in  the  spaces  between.  It  is  per- 
haps a  common  impression  in  one  who  looks  up 
at  a  mediaeval  vault  that  it  is  a  great  continuous 
shell  to  which  a  series  of  subdividing  ribs  is  ap- 
plied. But  it  is  something  quite  different.  There 
was  a  certain  contumacy  in  the  ribs  which  made 
combination  difficult  and  tended  to  disturb  the 
shape  of  the  vaults  ;  for  they  were  all  semicircles, 
and  being  of  different  diameters,  especially  when 
the  bays  were  not  square,  were  of  different  heights. 
So  the  centre  of  a  compartment,  where  the  high 
diagonals  crossed,  was  hunched  up  into  the  sem- 
blance of  a  dome.  The  ribs  were  set  up  like  the 
wires  of  a  cage,  and  the  triangular  cells  between 
were  filled  each  by  its  independent  arched  shell 
with  less  concern  for  continuity  of  surface  than 
the  lobes  of  a  melon.  The  separate  cells  were 
hollowed  and  warped  and  twisted  into  any  shape 


ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE  207 

that  the  independent  ribs  required,  and  the  whole 
is  as  different  as  can  well  be  from  the  fair  broad 
surface  of  a  Koman  or  Kenaissance  vault. 

The  builder's  eagerness  to  illustrate  construc- 
tion led  him  as  fast  as  he  added  ribs  to  his  vault 
to  put  under  each  a  separate  shaft  proportioned 
to  its  size,  which  should  seem  to  carry  its  weight 
down  to  the  ground  or  to  some  obviously  firm 
support  below.  So,  as  the  ribbing  grew  compli- 
cated, and  the  archivolts  of  the  arcades  were  more 
and  more  divided,  were  developed  those  richly 
grouped  piers  whose  tall  vaulting  shafts,  climbing 
from  the  floor  to  the  vaults  and  spreading  in  ribs 
over  their  surface  to  meet  those  from  the  other 
side,  gradually  substituted  a  continuity  of  upright 
lines  for  the  continuity  of  surface  that  was  disap- 
pearing. These  piers,  marking  the  confines  of  the 
bays,  symbolizing  and  summing  up  in  their  parti- 
tion the  structure  of  the  building,  have  suggested 
the  remark  that  the  mediaeval  church  was  planned 
from  the  top  downward,  inasmuch  as  the  plan 
of  its  very  bases  depended  on  and  recorded  the 
whole  arrangement  of  the  vaulting.  "We  have 
been  told  that  the  oblong  groined  vault  was  im- 
practicable till  the  pointed  arch  was  applied, 
which  made  it  possible  to  bring  arches  of  differ- 
ent span  to  the  same  height ;  but  as  a  matter  of 
fact  oblong  groining  is  as  old  as  Justinian,  being 
found  in  Sta.  Sofia ;  it  was  a  good  deal  used 


208 


ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE 


in  French  Komanesque  clmrches,  and  somewhat 
in  Germany.  By  the  time  the  transition  came  on, 
bringing  that  use  of  the  pointed  arch  which  was 
first  a  structural  convenience  and  then  a  fashion, 
the  besetting  difficulties  had  been  surmounted, 
the  direction  of  progress  was  clear,  and  architect- 
ure was  developing  with  an  impetus  which  was  to 
carry  it  forward  through  three  centuries.  Even 
the  scheme  of  decoration  was  clearly  established, 
though  its  forms  were  open  to  change ;  there  was 
nothing  to  do  but  go  on  extending  and  refining 
the  application  of  the  principles  of  construction 
and  ornamentation  which  had  been  evolved. 


VII 

Nothing  more  conspicuously  distinguished  the 
Romanesque  church  from  every  building  that  had 
preceded  it  than  its  towers.  Much  speculation 
has  been  spent  on  the  questions  when  and  where 
these  towers  were  first  adopted,  and  for  what 
purpose.  Was  it  for  defence,  for  outlook,  for  ap- 
pearance, or  to  carr}^  bells  ?  We  cannot  decide  ; 
we  can  merely  recall  that  till  towers  were  adjoined 
to  churches  they  had  been  used  only  for  defence, 
as  part  of  town  w^alls  ;  that  the  oldest  church- 
towers,  those  of  Italy,  not  needed  for  defence, 
were  yet  not  incorporated  with  the  churches,  but 
stood  apart  on  one  side  ;  that  although  bells  were 


ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE  209 

in  use  for  cliurches  as  early  as  the  seventh  cen- 
tury, till  the  eleventh  ihey  were  so  small  that  to 
build  large  towers  to  carry  them  was  preposter- 
ous. And  yet  again  we  may  remember  that  in 
the  deserted  buildings  of  Syria,  that  strange 
quarry  of  features  that  reappear  in  mediaeval 
architecture,  we  see  in  the  church  of  Turmanin 
a  pair  of  towers,  with  arcaded  chambers  like  bel- 
fries, flanking  the  great  arch  of  the  open  vestibule. 
As  for  date,  though  a  few  of  the  towers  of  Italian 
basilican  churches,  or  rather  the  lower  stories  of 
them,  are  ascribed  by  writers  of  credit  to  the 
seventh  century  afid  even  to  the  sixth,  they  are  set 
later  by  other  authorities,  and  they  are  monuments 
which  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  churches, 
though  they  stand  near  and  group  with  them. 
With  the  sole  exception  of  the  architects  of  two 
or  three  of  the  Syrian  churches  no  one  before  the 
Romanesque  builders  seems  to  have  thought  of 
making  a  tower  an  integral  part  of  a  church. 
Perhaps  the  first  example  we  know  is  Charle- 
magne's at  Aachen,  v/here  two  small  round  towers 
flank  the  great  two-story  entrance  porch.  The 
church  is  on  the  boundary  line  between  Early 
Christian  and  Romanesque,  Jind  the  towers  are 
only  stair  towers ;  in  the  plan  for  the  monastery  of 
St.  Gall,  of  which  I  speak  elsewhere,  and  which 
dates  a  score  of  years  later  in  820,  the  two  round 
towers  are  set  entirely  apart  from  the  church  in 


210  ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE 

Italian  fashion.  The  fact  that  there  are  two, 
while  most  Italian  churches  were  contented  with 
one,  is  already  significant  of  the  enthusiasm  for 
them  which  the  northern  builders  showed  as  soon 
as  they  began  to  use  them.  It  is  also  significant 
of  that  greater  fondness  for  picturesqueness  which 
has  always  characterized  the  people  of  the  north. 
The  Germans  especially,  living  remote  from  cities, 
and  building  apart  among  hills,  rejoicing  appar- 
ently in  the  romantic  aspects  of  nature,  embodi- 
ments of  picturesqueness  in  their  lives  and  cus- 
toms, were  apt  to  build  high  up,  where  their 
churches  and  castles  rose  conspicuously  amid  the 
most  pictorial  surroundings.  It  was  of  their  tem- 
perament to  like  things  that  were  striking,  em- 
phatic, and  the  strong  accentuation  which  towers 
give  to  an  architectural  composition  was  in  keep- 
ing with  this.  It  was  also  natural  that  a  race 
which  spent  its  days  in  ranging  through  woods 
and  hills,  all  whose  lives  were  outdoor  lives  and 
their  whole  country  an  enchanted  wilderness, 
should  take  thought  for  the  outdoor  aspect  of 
their  buildings  and  like  to  see  far  off  their  towers 
rising  above  woods  or  rocky  summits.  I  have  al- 
ready quoted  the  judgment  that  calls  the  archi- 
tecture of  the  basilica  an  architecture  of  the  in- 
terior, and  this  was  not  unnatural  for  people  who 
lived  among  streets.  The  architecture  of  the 
north  was  for  outside  effect  as  much  as  inside ; 


ROAfANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE  211 

the  picturesque  feeling  of  the  northern  people 
showed  as  fast  as  they  developed  an  architect- 
ural sense  and  began  to  build  after  their  own  in- 
stinct. 

The  first  position  for  the  towers  was  on  the 
front  of  the  church,  where  in  the  early  Koman- 
esque  a  single  one  covering  the  main  entrance,  or 
more  often  in  Germany  at  least,  a  pair  embracing 
it  between  them,  was  almost  always  to  be  fouiid, 
and  was  the  most  important  factor  of  the  fa9ade. 
They  make  the  most  conspicuous  difference  be- 
tween the  churches  south  of  the  Alps,  where  they 
are  almost  always  lacking,  and  those  in  the  north. 
The  German  builders  could  hardly  have  enough  of 
them.  They  soon  added  them  to  the  sides  of  the 
choir,  and  fell  into  the  habit  of  building  a  larger 
one  over  the  crossing.  Often  towers  were  added 
to  the  ends  of  the  transepts.  It  became  common 
for  churches  of  the  eleventh  and  twelfth  centuries 
to  have  four,  six,  and  even  more.  The  influence  of 
this  enthusiasm  extended  to  Italy,  where  the 
church  of  San  Abbondio  at  Como,  for  instance, 
and  even  the  southern  cathedral  of  Molfetta  are 
examples  of  a  pair  of  towers  flanking  the  choir. 
"  The  Germans  and  Flemings,"  complains  an  old 
French  writer,  "  have  big  [bells]  and  a  great  many 
of  them:  this  comes  of  their  small  politeness." 
Certainly  the  ringing  of  bells  harasses  the  ears  of 
travellers  in  Germany  and  the  Low  Countries,  but 


212  ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE 

fondness  for  this  will  not  account  for  the  seven 
towers  of  the  picturesque  abbey  of  Laach  or  of  the 
cathedral  of  Limburg  on  the  Lahn  ;  for  the  people 
of  Ghent  or  Bruges  manage  to  get  all  the  noise 
they  want  out  of  one  belfry.  The  variety  of  me- 
diaeval bell-towers  is  great;  their  design  shows 
the  delight  their  builders  took  in  them.  VioUet- 
le-Duc  has  said  that  the  church  towers  are  the 
touchstone  of  the  imagination  of  architects  in  the 
Middle  Ages.  In  France  the  builders  were  less 
lavish  of  them  than  in  Germany,  though  the  repre- 
sentations of  the  huge  church  of  Cluny  indicate 
seven ;  there  was  apt  to  be  but  a  single  one  or  a 
pair,  on  the  fa9ade  or  at  the  side.  Often  a  great 
tower  over  the  crossing  was  the  only  one,  and  this 
was  also  a  common  feature  in  Lombardy.  But 
the  French  builder  took  infinite  pains  with  them, 
especially  when  there  was  but  one.  While  the 
composition  of  his  interior  was  rigorously  sub- 
jected to  the  plan  of  his  vaulting,  the  play  of  fancy 
and  range  of  invention  in  his  towers  was  sur- 
prising: nothing  better  shows  his  skill,  his  re- 
sources, and  his  grace  than  the  towers  he  set  on  his 
churches,  even  small  churches,  in  the  eleventh  and 
twelfth  centuries.  Eichly  elaborated  belfry  stages, 
high  stone  roofs  that  grew  into  spires  even  before 
the  pointed  Gothic  set  in,  pinnacles  and  shafted 
canopies  at  the  junctions,  picturesque  dormers^  all 
these  belong  to  the  Komanesque  of  France,  espe- 


ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE  213 

cially  to  Normandy,  where  the  central  tower  was  al- 
ways a  favorite,  and  in  the  middle  provinces,  where 
the  spire  was  an  early  growth.  In  Germany,  on 
the  other  hand,  where  number  seems  to  have  been 
preferred  to  elaboration,  the  types,  though  vigor- 
ous and  effective,  were  restricted.  Plainer  shafts, 
square,  round  or  octagon,  or  both  or  all  clustered 
together,  simple  groups  of  windows,  high  roofs  of 
wood,  conical  or  pyramidal,  broken  only  by  dor- 
mers if  at  all,  distinguish  the  German  church 
towers.  Combinations  of  these  different  elements 
give  the  varied  picturesqueness  that  pleases  the 
traveller  on  the  Ehine  and  in  Germany.  But  alike 
in  both  countries  the  outside  effect  of  the  churches 
was  concentrated  in  the  towers.  They  are  the 
direct  embodiment  of  that  aspiration  for  upright 
lines  and  loftiness  of  expression  whose  growth  we 
can  trace  through  all  the  progress  of  mediaeval 
architecture  from  the  eleventh  century  to  the  four- 
teenth, which  culminated  in  the  soaring  vaults  and 
spires  of  Amiens,  Beauvais,  and  Cologne,  and 
which  died  in  the  excesses  of  the  fifteenth  century. 
Yet  this  upward  aspiration  did  not,  during  the  life 
of  Komanesque  architecture,  become  a  dominating 
influence  as  it  did  in  the  thirteenth  century.  The 
Eomanesque  was,  to  the  end  as  in  the  beginning, 
by  virtue  of  the  conditions  of  its  birth,  the  archi- 
tecture of  walls  and  masses  rather  than  of  lines. 
Breadth  of  surface  was  its  characteristic.  Italians 


214  ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE 

and  Germans  appear  to  have  been  too  fond  of  this 
characteristic  to  surrender  it  willingly  in  favor  of 
a  Gothic  predominance  of  lines.  The  Italians  in 
practically  refusing  the  Gothic  while  they  nomi- 
nally accepted  it,  kept  the  character  of  the  Ro- 
manesque. The  Germans  clung  to  the  Roman- 
esque for  the  better  part  of  a  century  after  the 
French  had  made  the  transition  into  the  Gothic, 
but  in  the  end  they  surrendered  frankly,  and  even 
outdid  the  French  in  the  final  wiriness  of  their 
style. 

VIII 

Sculpture  had  been  the  prevailing  decoration  of 
Greek  architecture ;  Roman  had  been  almost  in- 
crusted  with  carving,  in  its  more  elaborate  exam- 
ples. The  early  Christian  churches  in  Italy  had 
been  utterly  bare  of  sculpture,  though  those  in 
the  East,  at  least  those  which  remain  for  us  to  see 
in  Syria,  were  liberally  adorned  with  it.  We  saw 
how  the  fancy  of  the  Christian  builders,  denied  or 
refusing  an  outlet  in  sculpture,  found  expression  in 
lavishly  covering  the  church  interiors  with  mo- 
saics. But  this  kind  of  decoration,  which  cen- 
tred in  two  or  three  important  cities — Constanti- 
nople, Ravenna,  Rome — was  a  costly  specialty,  and 
seems  not  to  have  continued,  except  where  Byzan- 
tine or  classical  influence  lingered.  The  Roman- 
esque builders  hardly  used  it,  jDOSsibly  because  at 


ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE  215 

first  it  was  impracticable  for  them,  and  when  they 
could  decorate  at  all  their  fancy  was  led  in  an- 
other direction.^  The  early  Christian  builders 
could  get  along  without  sculpture  ;  the  capitals  of 
their  columns,  the  only  really  indispensable  pieces 
of  carving,  they  took  as  they  found  them.  The 
Romanesque  builders,  left  to  their  own  resources, 
worked  out  their  own  sculpture  from  the  begin- 
ning. The  indispensable  capital  was  a  permanent 
school  for  them  ;  they  wrought  at  it  patiently  and 
with  unflagging  invention  for  three  or  four  centu- 
ries. On  the  capitals  and  the  elaborate  door- 
ways their  sculpture  was  mostly  concentrated,  and 
the  chief  ornaments  of  the  doorways  were  still  the 
capitals.  The  variety  of  forms  which  the  sculpt- 
ors invented  for  them  was  inexhaustible ;  but  as  in 
other  parts  of  architecture  so  in  this,  the  medi- 
aeval artists  found  a  treatment  as  far  as  possi- 
ble from  the  classic.  The  sculptured  classic  capi- 
tals, of  which  the  Corinthian  was  the  type,  had 
assumed  the  shape  of  a  bell  about  which  leaves, 
volutes,  and  other  independent  ornaments  were  ar- 
ranged. The  characteristic  type  of  Romanesque 
capitals,  when  they  were  not  more  or  less  directly 
imitated  from  the  Corinthian,  was  quite  opposite. 
Until  the  time  of  transition  into  Gothic  drew  near 

^  The  mosaic  in  the  apse  of  San  Ambrogio  at  Milan  seems  to 
belong  to  the  oldest  part  of  the  construction,  dating,  it  is  thought, 
from  the  ninth  century,  and  is  not  Romanesque. 


216  liOlfANESQUE  ARCHITECTUIiE 

in  the  latter  half  of  the  twelfth  century,  most  of 
them  kept  through  all  their  variety  the  semblance 
of  their  constructive  type,  which  was  a  block  of 
stone,  approximately  cubical,  narrowed  or  cham- 
fered or  rounded  off  below  to  meet  the  shaft.  In 
this  block,  whose  underlying  form  was  rather  em- 
phasized than  dissembled,  the  ornament  was  sunk, 
displayed  by  cuttings  which  left  it  standing  at  the 
original  surface.  This  gave  the  purely  construct- 
ive type  of  capital,  ornamented  by  surface  carv- 
ing which  did  not  disguise  the  natural  shape  more 
than  do  the  corrugations  of  a  walnut.  In  the  clas- 
sic sculptured  capitals,  the  Corinthian  or  Compo- 
site, the  true  capital,  the  bell,  could  be  displayed 
only  by  stripping  off  the  leaves  and  ornaments 
which  wrap  it  round.  Nearly  all  the  capitals  of 
the  Eomanesque  are  of  this  incised  constructive 
form  unless  they  are  imitations  of  the  Corinthian. 
Mr.  Kuskin  has  said,  indeed,  in  his  uncompromis- 
ing fashion,  that  there  are  not,  and  never  can  be 
more  than  two  orders  of  capitals,  the  concave  and 
the  convex,  meaning  these  two  classes  which  I 
have  indicated. 

The  most  elementary  form  which  these  capitals 
take,  perhaps  the  most  typical,  is  the  cubic  cap, 
called  in  German  Wiirf el -capital  (die-capital),  in 
English  often  the  cushion-capital.  This,  which  is 
the  father  of  a  large  family,  consists  in  its  sim- 
plest shape  of  a  square  die  with  its  lower  corners 


ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE  817 

rounded  off,  usually  in  a  sweep  that  makes  each 
face  semicircular  below,  or  nearly  so.  It  belongs 
to  the  whole  range  of  German  Eomanesque,  in 
North  Italy,  in  Germany,  in  Normandy  and  Eng- 
land as  well.  The  undercut  corners,  or  the  lateral 
faces,  or  both,  are  subject  to  an  endless  variety  of 
ornamental  carving,  which  sometimes  obscures  the 
original  form.  It  is  the  most  direct  and  natural 
shape  possible  to  the  simple  constructive  capital, 
a  rectangular  block  of  stone  mediating  between 
the  impost  above  and  the  shaft  below,  left  square 
at  the  top  to  receive  the  impost,  rounded  beneath 
to  meet  the  shaft.  Singularly  enough  it  is  to  the 
East  once  more  that  we  must  look  to  find  the 
beginnings  of  this  characteristic  form,  as  of  so 
many  that  afterward  signalized  the  Romanesque. 
If  we  may  trust  the  accepted  chronology,  the  old- 
est examples  are  the  columns  in  the  famous  build- 
ing at  Constantinople  called  by  the  Turks  the 
Hall  of  a  thousand  and  one  Columns,  and  identi- 
fied with  the  cistern  of  Philoxenos  which  was  built 
in  the  fourth  century.  This  type,  then,  is  almost 
of  classic  age,  passing  into  the  Byzantine  and 
Saracenic  styles,  as  well  as  the  Bomanesque ;  it 
comes  next  in  longevity  and  fecundity  to  the  pa- 
triarchal Corinthian,  whose  posterity  abounds  in 
every  style,  and  whose  race  is  not  yet  exhausted. 
To  insist  that  a  feature  which  is  so  straightfor- 
ward a  product  of  mechanical  exigency  as  the 


218  ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE 

cubic  capital  must  be  due  everywhere  to  transmis- 
sion, would  be  unsafe  ;  yet  borrowing  is  an  easier 
process  tlian  inventing. 

The  prevailing  motives  of  Komanesque  decora- 
tion are  familiar — the  all-pervading  interlace,  as 
characteristic  of  Norse  and  Celtic  ornament  as  of 
Byzantine  and  Moorish,  the  continuous  alternating 
scroll,  the  perennial  acanthus,  and  the  endless 
variety  of  leafage  derived  from  it,  the  lions  and 
griffins  guarding  the  doorways  of  the  churches 
and  submissively  upholding  their  porches,  the 
eagles,  peacocks,  and  whole  fauna  of  other  ani- 
mals that  play  among  the  convolutions  of  their 
vines,  the  grotesquely  active  human  figures  that 
writhe  and  struggle  through  them.  In  Italy, 
southern  France,  and  the  Ehineland,  declining  as 
it  stretched  northward,  the  influence  of  Byzantine 
workmen  and  Byzantine  art  is  clearly  marked.  In 
the  south  a  certain  effort  for  classic  balance  and 
elegance  and  a  respect  for  naturalism  temper  the 
Teutonic  vivacity.  In  the  north  the  play  of  a  wild 
fancy  led  the  artist  away  from  naturalism  and 
from  formality.  Everywhere  in  his  work  are  a 
picturesqueness,  a  rough  humor  and  fondness  for 
the  grotesque,  an  energy  and  display  of  emotion 
that  are  as  far  as  possible  from  the  classic  quali- 
ties of  art.  But  it  is  all  under  the  dominion  of  a 
singularly  strong  sense  of  decorative  effect.  All  is 
put  together  with  an  instinct  for  design  like  that 


ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE  219 

of  early  Greek  or  oriental  art,  an  easy  compact- 
ness that  almost  matches  the  solid  harmony  of 
Egyptian  decoration.  The  study  of  the  symbol- 
ism and  the  didactic  purpose  of  the  sculpture  be- 
longs to  the  iconography  of  the  churches,  into 
which  I  do  not  enter  here.  The  Teutonic  mind 
was  as  full  of  symbols  as  the  Hebrew ;  the  whole 
Bible  story  lay  open  to  the  sculptor,  the  legend 
and  the  poetry  of  his  own  race  were  stimulating 
material,  and  he  had  the  plastic  imagination  to 
embody  both. 

Men  who  have  studied  the  Komanesque  down 
to  its  last  development  in  the  thirteenth  century 
are  tempted  to  regret  its  sudden  extinguishment 
in  the  transition  to  the  pointed  Gothic,  as  we  la- 
ment the  untimely  death  of  a  man  who  leaves  half 
fulfilled  his  promise  of  greatness.  We  would  fain 
have  seen  what  beauty  the  perfect  skill  that  was 
lavished  on  the  Gothic  of  the  thirteenth  century 
would  have  evoked  from  the  round  arches  and 
broad  walls  of  the  older  style.  There  have  been 
several  attempts  to  revive  it  in  our  time,  notably 
among  Germans,  who  have  with  reason  looked  on 
it  as  the  style  of  their  own  race,  and  by  one,  the 
ablest  perhaps,  among  American  architects.  But 
it  has  not  prevailed,  and  most  of  the  attempts  have 
not  encouraged  us  to  think  that  it  suits  the  mod- 
ern genius.  Eyes  long  trained  by  inheritance  and 
schooling  to  the  proportions  of  the  orders  and  all 


220  ROMANESQUE  ARCHITECTURE 

the  peculiar  concinnity  of  tlie  Renaissance  do  m>i 
take  kindly  to  the  bold  breadth  of  surface,  the  wil- 
fulness of  proportion,  the  concentration  and  vigor 
of  carved  ornament  that  belonged  to  the  Eoman- 
esque.  We  may  take  the  relation  of  column  and 
arch  as  a  most  characteristic  and  crucial  one,  vary- 
ing continually,  yet  at  the  best  period  always  with 
a  negligent  grace  that  eludes  the  modern  designer. 
The  proportion  of  massive  impost  and  slender 
shaft,  the  luxuriant  spreading  capital  and  clinging 
base,  seem  to  defy  his  imitation.  It  is  easy  to 
weave  basket-work  and  twine  interlaces,  to  inter- 
weave grotesque  birds  and  animals,  to  spread  out  a 
spiky  acanthus  starred  with  drill-holes,  such  as  we 
see  in  the  south  of  France  or  wherever  else  Byzan- 
tine influence  was  marked.  But  to  combine  the 
breadth  and  vigor  of  the  old  style  with  the  refine- 
ment which  in  the  end  it  attained,  to  emulate  the 
exuberant  fancy  and  untiring  invention  of  the  men 
who  pervaded  the  churches  of  the  twelfth  century 
with  their  sculpture — this  is  not  easy.  One  secret 
of  the  difficulty  is  that  Romanesque  architecture 
was  a  popular  art ;  that  the  impulse,  the  religion, 
and  the  convictions  of  whole  races  were  behind  it ; 
that  the  opulence  of  fancy  and  invention  which 
suffused  this  or  that  great  church  was  the  cumula- 
tive offering  of  hundreds  of  workmen,  each  an  ar- 
tist in  his  kind,  each  bringing  his  own  gift  of  skill 
and  imagination.    Moreover,  this  architecture,  in 


ROMANESqVE  ARCHITECTURE  231 

spite  of  its  appeal  to  everyone  who  is  attracted  by 
the  picturesque,  goes  against  the  preconceptions 
of  those  whose  habit  is  formed  on  other  styles,  in 
that  it  finds  its  main  effort  not  in  accumulation  of 
features  and  fixed  proportions,  not  in  aspiring  lines 
and  pointed  summits,  but,  like  no  other  style  that 
we  see,  in  the  massing  of  wall-surface  contrasted 
by  dark  arches  and  upright  shafts.  It  is  the  only 
style  that  has  set  its  chief  value  on  what  is  really 
the  main  substance  of  every  building,  the  wall ; 
and  the  wall,  more  than  any  other  part,  strange  to 
say,  is  what  the  architects  of  the  "West  have  been 
constantly  tempted  to  dissemble,  obscure,  and 
suppress. 


< 


THE  KENAISSANCE 


I 

I  HAVE  noted  in  a  previous  essay  that  Eoman 
architecture  was  essentially  secular,  as  Greek  had 
been  essentially  sacred,  an  architecture  of  palaces 
and  civic  buildings,  of  buildings  intended  for  os- 
tentation and  luxurious  living,  among  which  the 
temples  were  comparatively  unimportant.  What 
was  more  characteristic,  all  the  innovations,  all  the 
advances,  were  in  the  service  of  secular  building, 
and  the  feature  which  was  the  means  of  them  all, 
the  arch,  was  rejected  from  religious  architecture 
as  it  had  been  among  the  Greeks.  Medijeval  ar- 
chitecture, on  the  other  hand,  was  the  child  of  the 
Church,  the  heir  of  her  wealth  and  her  solici- 
tude. All  its  types  were  evolved  in  the  building 
of  churches ;  all  its  important  buildings  were 
churches  ;  the  form  it  developed  for  them  was  as 
typical  and  almost  as  obligatory  as  that  of  the 
Greek  temple,  though  its  variations  were  greater. 
Secular  buildings  were  as  inferior  in  importance 
and  perhaps  of  as  few  types  as  among  the  Greeks  ; 

222 


CATH  EDRAL— FLORENCE 
Brunelleschi'^  Dome 


THE  RENAISSANCE 


223 


all  their  details  were  borrowed  from  the  churches. 
But  the  feature  which  the  mediaeval  builders  most 
exalted,  on  which  the  whole  development  of  their 
architecture  was  founded,  was  the  very  one  which 
had  been  banished  from  the  religious  architect- 
ure of  the  ancients — the  arch.  Greek  architecture 
and  mediaeval,  then,  were  alike  religious,  though 
the  mediaeval  was  as  exclusively  that  of  the  arch 
as  the  other  had  been  that  of  the  beam ;  but  the 
mediaeval  architecture  of  the  arch  was  as  charac- 
teristically religious  as  the  Eoman  had  been  secu- 
lar. The  ethical  reason  or  significance  of  these 
contrasts  I  have  not  tried  to  trace.  There  is  no 
lack  of  writers  whose  mission  is  of  this  kind. 
But  one  characteristic  all  the  ancient  styles  had  in 
common — they  were  all  aristocratic.  The  art  of 
Egypt,  it  is  well  known,  was  purely  hieratic.  It  is 
difficult  to  trace  the  development  of  Greek  art  in 
its  social  relations,  but  the  cities  of  Greece,  even 
those  that  thought  themselves  most  democratic, 
were  oligarchies,  not  democracies;  and  while  it 
is  clear  that  the  Greeks  had  exceptional  artistic 
gifts,  the  religious  association  of  their  architect- 
ure, the  fewness  and  inflexibility  of  its  forms,  its 
conservatism,  and  the  narrow  lines  of  its  evolution 
give  it,  especially  the  Doric,  a  distinctly  hieratic 
character.  It  did  not  take  the  impress  of  common 
interests  and  daily  life  as  their  sculpture  and 
painting  did.   The  architecture  of  the  Koman  Em- 


224 


TEE  RENAISSANCE 


pire  again  was  the  concern  of  emperors,  rulers,  and 
the  rich.  The  people,  most  of  all  in  Eome,  were  by 
their  very  condition  excluded  from  care  of  it  and 
probably  from  direct  interest,  being  either  an 
eleemosynary  population,  dependent  on  the  largess 
of  the  rich  or  of  the  state,  or  else  of  the  artisan 
and  servile  class.  Roman  architecture  then,  while 
it  was  completely  secular,  was  an  aristocratic  archi- 
tecture, the  architecture  of  the  rich  and  powerful. 

One  significant  thing  we  may  recall  here.  In 
all  religions  before  the  Christian  the  priesthood 
was  a  segregated  body,  in  many  cases  a  caste ;  their 
business  was  to  serve  the  worship  of  inaccessible 
deities  to  whom  the  mass  of  men  had  not  even  the 
right  to  offer  service.  The  crowd  of  worshippers 
was  shut  out  of  the  sanctuary,  and  the  worship 
was  vicarious.  The  priesthood  lived  in  a  remote- 
ness which  was  analogous  to  that  of  the  gods 
themselves ;  the  temple  was  the  abode  of  the  god, 
not  the  resort  of  the  people.  Under  the  Christian 
religion  worship  became  the  common  function  of  all 
the  faithful,  the  clergy's  duty  was  to  minister  per- 
sonally to  all,  the  churches  were  built  to  harbor  the 
whole  mass  of  the  people.  The  clergy  was  concerned 
from  the  beginning  to  stand  as  close  to  the  people 
as  possible  instead  of  holding  aloof  from  them  ; 
every  interest  of  the  Church  was  the  interest  of  the 
people ;  the  church  building  was  their  common 
shelter  and  their  common  care,  often  they  used  it 


THE  RENAISSAKCE 


225 


for  their  secular  gatherings  as  well  as  for  worship, 
and  sometimes  to  its  detriment.  We  have  seen 
how  under  the  influence  of  the  monastic  orders  the 
convents  became  great  brotherhoods  of  laborers  in 
which  most  of  the  productive  work  of  Christen- 
dom was  centred,  how  during  the  eleventh  and 
twelfth  centuries  especially,  the  greater  part  of 
their  labor  went  to  the  building  of  churches  and  of 
other  church  buildings.  History  shows  how  un- 
der the  rise  of  the  cities  and  the  episcopate  in  the 
twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries  the  great  cathe- 
drals were  built  with  the  common  prayers,  offer- 
ings, and  labor  of  all  the  people  of  the  cities. 
Architecture  was  the  dominant  art  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  It  absorbed  the  popular  interest  and  laid 
all  other  arts  under  tribute ;  it  gathered  to  itself 
the  fruits  of  all  other  productive  activities.  We 
may  say  then  that  the  architecture  of  the  Middle 
Ages  was  a  popular  architecture  as  none  other  has 
been  before  or  since,  so  far  as  we  know.  It  repre- 
sented, moreover,  not  the  individual  ambitions, 
avarice,  or  luxury  of  the  people,  but  their  most  un- 
selfish and  unworldly  interests,  so  that  their  high- 
est producing  faculty,  their  highest  criticism,  and 
their  highest  aspiration  went  into  it. 

The  art  of  the  Eenaissance  was  in  its  spirit  as 
sharply  distinguished  from  the  mediaeval,  which  it 
superseded,  as  in  its  form,  or  as  was  the  Roman, 
which  it  imitated.    If  the  media3val  styles  had 


226 


THE  RENAISSANCE 


been  religious  and  popular,  the  Renaissance  was 
aristocratic,  and  as  we  shall  presently  see,  it  was  the 
child  of  the  learned,  of  dilettanti.  Its  protectors 
were  the  new  despots  of  Italy,  warlike  advent- 
urers and  condottieri  like  the  Sforzas  and  Malat- 
testas,  or  successful  men  of  affairs  like  the  Medici 
— not,  to  be  sure,  an  aristocracy  of  long  descent, 
but  such  an  aristocracy  as  Italy  had  after  the  sub- 
version of  the  feudal  nobility  which  had  sunk  away 
during  the  thirteenth  and  fourteenth  centuries,  and 
disappeared  with  the  wreck  of  the  power  of  the 
German  emperors  in  her.  It  was  in  nowise  the 
product  of  the  people,  who  had  to  be  educated  to 
receive  it,  in  nowise  an  evolution  from  the  style 
which  the  people  were  practising  when  it  was  in- 
troduced. It  was  as  far  from  being  religious  as 
from  being  popular ;  its  strictest  opponents  were 
the  regular  clergy,  that  monastic  clergy  in  whom 
were  centred  all  the  conservatism  of  the  Church. 
All  its  associations  were  secular,  from  its  Roman 
days  to  its  latest ;  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  in 
history  a  more  irreligious  class  than  the  petty  des- 
pots who  were  its  promoters,  and  the  worldly  prel- 
ates who  were  the  secular  clergy  of  its  time,  or 
sacred  buildings  which  were  less  the  embodiment 
of  pious  zeal  than  the  churches  which  it  supplied. 
Its  forms  and  monuments  suggest  stateliness,  ele- 
gance, ostentatious  splendor,  or  fastidious  refine- 
ment, but  not  the  august  solemnity  of  ancient  re- 


THE  RENAISSANCE 


227 


ligions  or  the  liumilitj  and  devoutness  of  the 
Christian.  Pageantry,  not  reverence  or  sacrifice, 
is  its  natural  accompaniment.  By  the  time  of  the 
Eenaissance  the  people,  even  the  industrial  and 
commercial  oligarchies  that  had  ruled  the  large 
cities,  had  lost  their  hold  on  government  and  every 
sort  of  public  undertaking.  Arts  as  well  as  poli- 
tics had  passed  out  of  their  direction.  Architect- 
ure, like  painting,  was  in  the  hands  of  a  profes- 
sional class,  who  were  themselves  the  servants  of 
the  rich  and  the  powerful.  The  general  public  had 
no  longer  control  of  it,  and  gradually  lapsed  into 
that  condition  of  indifference  which  has  been  its  at- 
titude ever  since,  and  probably  had  been  among  an- 
cient nations.  We  hear  of  no  such  popular  absorp- 
tion in  the  work  of  building  under  the  Eenaissance 
as  during  the  Middle  Ages.  We  do  not  read  of 
the  people  harnessing  themselves  in  crowds  to 
wagons  to  drag  their  stones  and  heavy  beams  over 
hills  and  through  rivers,  as  in  the  building  of  the 
cathedral  of  Chartres ;  of  the  town  setting  aside 
a  share  of  its  revenue  year  after  year  to  build  its 
cathedral,  as  in  the  great  Tuscan  cities  ;  of  the 
union  of  the  trades  calling  the  artists  of  the  world 
into  council  to  build  them  a  church  of  beauty  such 
as  the  world  had  not  seen  before,  as  in  Florence ; 
of  the  imposts  on  provisions  appropriated  to  fur- 
nish the  cathedral  with  a  tower,  as  for  the  Butter 
Tower  at  Kouen.    There  were  not  in  Italy  whole 


228 


THE  RENAISSANCE 


communities  of  busy  artisans  gathered  under  the 
shadow  of  the  great  monasteries,  and  devoting 
themselves  to  building,  such  as  there  were  in 
France  and  Germany  in  the  eleventh  and  twelfth 
centuries.  The  architecture  of  the  Eenaissance 
was  in  its  social  spirit  and  conduct,  perhaps  un- 
consciously, as  close  a  repetition  of  that  of  the 
Empire  as  it  aimed  to  be  in  its  artistic  spirit  and 
form. 

II 

There  is  apparently  a  common  impression  that 
in  architecture  at  least  the  Renaissance  was  a 
sudden  transformation,  as  when  a  precipitate  is 
produced  by  pouring  together  two  chemical  solu- 
tions; and  that  the  moment  of  mingling  can  be 
accurately  determined.  But  this  is  not  the  case. 
It  was  as  when  a  vessel  of  water  has  been  long 
cooling  in  stillness  to  the  point  of  freezing  with- 
out visible  change,  and  then  at  a  sudden  jar  the 
particles  all  at  once  rearrange  themselves  and  the 
mass  crystallizes  into  ice.  The  change  itseK  was 
rapid  and  striking ;  the  influences  that  led  to  it 
were  inveterate.  If  we  wish  to  trace  them  we  must 
go  back  to  the  days  of  Charlemagne,  and  then  we 
find  that  we  must  look  farther  still  and  follow  them 
till  we  reach  Constantine  himself,  from  whose 
time  dates  the  first  divergence  from  the  types  of 
classic  art.    The  truth  is  that  the  classic  instinct 


THE  RENAISSANCE 


never  died  out  of  the'  Italians ;  its  persistence 
shows  itself  almost  as  much  in  architecture  as  in 
literature  and  law.  The  story  of  Italy  reminds  one 
of  some  man  of  strongly  marked  natural  instincts 
who,  turned  away  from  his  natural  bent  by  the 
pressure  of  active  life  and  companionship,  reverts 
at  a  later  time  for  good  or  ill  to  tendencies  that 
have  been  dormant  through  his  busy  career,  and 
astonishes  the  world  by  a  transformation  that  is 
only  the  natural  outcome  of  his  character — like 
Tiberius,  for  instance,  or  Diocletian  in  ancient 
times,  or  Charles  Y.  in  modern. 

In  the  Middle  Ages  all  the  northern  and  central 
parts  of  Italy,  possessed  by  Gothic,  Lombardic, 
and  Frankish  invaders,  were  given  over  to  German 
rule,  and  subjected  really  or  nominally  to  the 
northern  emperors.  They  were  for  the  time  thor- 
oughly dominated  and  Teutonised  in  manners,  and 
fell  into  the  current  of  Lombard  or  Romanesque 
architecture  which  spread  over  the  middle  of  Eu- 
rope wherever  German  influence  dominated.  But 
the  invaders  had  never  possessed  the  coast  regions 
of  Italy  and  the  extreme  south  in  the  same  way, 
and  there  the  native  race  had  resisted  the  Lom- 
bard style  and  yielded  but  slowly  to  it,  in  many 
parts  not  at  all.  On  the  eastern  shore  the  influ- 
ence of  Constantinople  contended  with  the  Ger- 
man till  the  end  of  the  Middle  Ages.  Rome  had 
never  been  permanently  occupied  by  any  of  the 


230 


THE  RENAISSANCE 


German  races,  or  by  tlieir  styles  of  building.  Her 
population  had  remained  comparatively  pure,  lier 
pride  in  her  old  station  was  undiminished,  she 
clung  tenaciously  to  her  old  traditions.  But  her 
power  was  the  ecclesiastical  power  of  the  popes ; 
as  a  city  she  sank  continually,  while  all  the  rest  of 
Italy  rose  from  the  abasement  of  the  barbarian 
conquest ;  to  the  civilization  and  arts  of  the  Mid- 
dle Ages  she  contributed  nothing.  During  the 
Babylonish  captivity,  as  the  popes  called  their 
exile  to  Avignon,  she  became  a  decadent  provincial 
town,  given  over  to  poverty  and  depopulation,  the 
prey  of  a  handful  of  disreputable  nobles.  In  Tus- 
cany, too,  the  population  seems  to  have  been  al- 
ways preponderatingly  Italian,  though  Lombard 
dukes  and  Frankish  counts  made  haste  to  estab- 
lish their  rule  in  it.  The  people  never  lost  the 
tradition  of  Etruscan  descent  and  of  Eoman  em- 
pire, but  retained  always  a  classic  instinct  which 
showed  in  their  building  ;  the  Lombard  architect- 
ure has  scarcely  left  a  trace  there.  Florence — 
where,  as  Villari  says,  though  the  nobles  were  of 
German  origin,  as  were  the  feudal  institutions,  a 
population  collected  which  was  principally  arti- 
san and  Roman  by  origin  and  tradition — escaped 
a  change  of  population  by  her  unimportance  and 
remoteness.  Her  feeling  was  all  Roman.  She 
pleased  herself  by  tracing  her  origin  to  the  wars 
of  Cataline,  her  name  to  one  of  the  generals  who 


THE  RENAISSANCE 


231 


fought  against  liim ;  she  called  herself  in  her 
young  days  the  Little  Kome.  The  Tuscan  mediae- 
val architecture  was  a  style  apart,  showing  always 
a  certain  liking  for  classic  qualities  in  fondness  for 
flat  surfaces  of  wall,  for  columns  not  stretched 
much  beyond  classic  proportion,  and  not  contin- 
ued through  successive  stories,  for  horizontal 
lines,  and  lintels  under  arches  or  in  place  of  them, 
for  gables  in  classic  shape  tied  across  like  pedi- 
ments, and  an  avoidance  of  great  vertical  lines  or 
features.  The  cathedral  of  Pisa,  begun  in  1063, 
the  first  great  work  of  the  style,  so  far  as  we 
know,  has  these  characteristics,  which  won  for  it 
the  praise  of  the  architects  of  the  Renaissance,  as 
we  may  see  in  Vasari.  The  lower  front  of  the 
cathedral  at  Empoli,  which  is  nearly  as  old,  the 
very  similar  facade  of  San  Miniato,  and  the  fa- 
mous baptistery  at  Florence  show  a  distinct  ten- 
dency to  continue  or  resume  classical  forms.  In 
Rome,  neither  Romanesque  nor  Gothic  found  en- 
trance, except  sporadically,  brought  in  by  colo- 
nies of  monks,  and  there  the  need  of  buildings 
grew  less  and  less  instead  of  increasing.  But 
when  about  the  beginning  of  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury there  came  a  temporary  impulse  to  new  build- 
ing, when  for  a  season  the  popes  enjoyed  a  little 
tranquillity  and  began  to  restore  their  buildings 
under  the  lead  of  a  group  of  conspicuous  artists, 
the  so-called  Cosmati,  there  was  a  peculiar  revival 


233 


THE  RENAISSANCE 


of  decorative  architecture  in  a  classic  fashion, 
though  on  a  small  scale,  which  we  may  see  in  the 
famous  cloisters  of  St.  Paul  and  St.  John  Lateran, 
and  in  the  porch  added  to  San  Lorenzo  fuori  le 
Mura.  To  this  time  of  revival,  which  was  called 
by  some  writers  a  proto-Renaissance,  certain  au- 
thorities have  even  ascribed  the  nave  of  San  Lo- 
renzo and  that  of  Sta.  Maria  in  Trastevere,  which 
are  lined  with  quasi-classic  orders  instead  of  the 
usual  arcades. 

In  Florence  the  case  was  different.  Her  season 
of  prosperity  came  late  enough  to  save  her  from 
being  an  object  of  greed  or  vengeance  in  the  im- 
perial wars,  but  by  the  end  of  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury she  was  too  thriving,  too  progressive,  too 
busy  in  the  affairs  of  the  world  not  to  take  up  its 
fashions.  The  Gothic  fashion  found  its  way  into 
her  in  spite  of  the  underlying  classic  feeling  which 
showed  through  her  Romanesque.  But  the  same 
feeling  tinctured  even  her  Gothic  in  a  variety  of 
ways.  It  is  conspicuous  in  the  habit,  retained 
from  the  Tuscan  Romanesque,  of  putting  the  sem- 
blance of  an  entablature  between  the  column  and 
arch  in  doorways,  or  the  moulded  stilt  between 
the  piers  and  arches  of  the  arcades  in  the  cathe- 
dral and  Loggia  dei  Lanzi.  Though  from  the  end 
of  the  thirteenth  century  to  the  end  of  the  four- 
teenth the  Gothic  style  swept  over  her  as  over  all 
Italy  except  Rome,  and  changed  her  aspect  till  the 


THE  RENAISSANCE 


233 


classical  tendency  seemed  to  be  buried  almost  be- 
yond resurrection,  yet  the  Gothic  spirit  had  not 
taken  possession  of  her.  Through  the  whole  pen- 
insula we  can  see  that  Gothic  buildings  are  not 
designed  as  Gothic  builders  would  have  had  them, 
except  here  and  there  by  imported  hands ;  that  the 
classic  love  for  broad  walls  and  horizontal  lines, 
and  even  for  round  arches,  shows  through  all. 

As  we  all  remember,  the  Renaissance  did  not 
begin  with  architecture.  It  was  a  great  general 
movement  in  literature,  art,  science,  a  revolution 
in  ideas  of  life,  history,  manners,  and  thought, 
which  was,  after  all,  a  direct  evolution  from  the 
conditions  which  had  preceded  it.  But  for  its 
consonance  with  the  spirit  of  the  Italian  people, 
says  Burckhardt,  the  Renaissance  would  not  have 
been  the  inevitable  phase  in  the  world's  history 
that  it  was.  The  spirit  of  the  Italian  people  at 
this  time  was  a  complex  inheritance  from  two 
different  peoples — a  restless,  inquiring,  innovat- 
ing, audacious  spirit  inherited  or  imbibed  from 
the  northern  races,  with  a  distinct  gift  for  expres- 
sion in  art  and  literature,  but  profoundly  modified 
by  a  sense  of  order  and  relation  which  descended 
from  the  old  Romans,  and  by  constant  companion- 
ship with  the  broadly  designed,  harmoniously  fin- 
ished monuments  of  both  literature  and  art  that 
antiquity  had  bequeathed,  as  well  as  by  a  thou- 
sand associations  in  political,  legal,  social,  and 


234 


THE  RENAISSANCE 


even  religious  tradition  whicli  were  of  Eoman 
origin.  The  sense  for  breadth  and  co-ordination 
in  which  lay  the  best  success  of  the  Eoman  people 
and  empire,  shut  out  from  political  expression, 
found  their  first  outlet  in  literature,  their  examples 
in  the  works  of  classic  authors.  These  works, 
cherished  in  the  monasteries  and  schools  during 
the  Middle  Ages,  were  made  accessible  in  larger 
number  by  constant  discoveries  in  the  fourteenth 
century  and  after,  still  more  by  the  exodus  of 
scholars  and  literary  men  from  Constantinople 
after  its  capture  by  the  Turks  in  the  middle  of  the 
fifteenth  century.  The  close  concentration  of  po- 
litical action  in  the  hands  of  the  despots  of  the 
fourteenth  century  had  left  hardly  an  opening  for 
most  active-minded  men  of  peace,  except  in  the 
study  of  literature  and  law.  The  fruitlessness  of 
the  career  of  the  scholar  in  politics,  the  rewards 
which  he  could  win  by  restraining  himself  to  liter- 
ature, are  well  illustrated  in  the  life  of  Petrarch, 
who  may  be  considered  the  herald  of  the  Renais- 
sance. No  wonder  that  uncloistered  men  of  letters, 
like  him  and  his  followers,  revolting  from  dialec- 
tics and  the  third  or  the  thirtieth  dilution  of  Aris- 
totle, with  the  zest  of  a  new  sense  for  freedom  of 
thought  and  beauty  of  expression,  should  fall  to 
worshipping  the  works  of  Cicero  and  the  Eoman 
poets.  No  wonder  that  the  worship  should  spread 
and  absorb  the  whole  class  of  secular  scholars, 


THE  RENAISSANCE 


235 


stimulated  as  it  constantly  was  by  the  discovery  of 
new  authors,  and  seconded  by  the  ineradicable  in- 
clination of  the  Italians  to  all  things  classic.  No 
wonder  that  it  should  come  presently  to  include 
all  the  forms  of  classic  art,  finding  in  them  the 
same  qualities  of  balanced  harmony,  of  measure 
and  grace  which  made  classic  literature  admirable. 
For  the  first  time  since  the  Empire,  the  connois- 
seur reappeared,  like  the  fastidious  dilettante  Nic- 
colo  Niccoli  of  Florence,  who  filled  his  house  not 
only  with  the  collection  of  precious  manuscripts 
which  now  adorns  the  Laurentian  Library,  but 
with  every  kind  of  classical  bric-a-brac,  examples 
of  the  lesser  decorative  arts  of  Rome. 

The  Renaissance  had  it  in  favor  of  its  success 
from  the  beginning  that  it  enlisted  the  rich  and 
the  powerful,  as  well  as  the  learned.  It  became 
the  fashion,  and  imprinted  itself  upon  the  arts  by 
force  of  patronage.  That  is,  the  style  of  the  Re- 
naissance did ;  its  spirit  was  in  the  nation,  and 
would  surely  have  made  itself  conspicuous  in  some 
change  or  striking  outgrowth  of  civilization.  But 
its  classic  aspect  was  forced  upon  it  of  set  purpose 
as  a  fashion,  and  though  the  spirit  was  in  the  peo- 
ple, it  was  chiefly  in  those  who  were  socially  at  the 
top  by  birth,  or  who  by  virtue  of  the  possession  of 
it  forced  themselves  to  the  top.  The  common  peo- 
ple did  but  reflect  it  in  their  handiwork,  as  was 
natural.    The  despots,  petty  and  great,  who  had 


236 


THE  RENAISSANCE 


won  control  of  the  Italian  states,  and  who  no 
longer  needed  to  give  themselves  over  to  a  life  of 
warfare,  made  it  their  means  of  distinction.  They 
surrounded  themselves  with  the  scholars,  poets, 
and  artists  who  were  illustrating  the  arts  and  let- 
ters of  antiquity.  They  sought  pre-eminence  as 
patrons,  connoisseurs,  and  even  as  scholars.  The 
Renaissance  had  permeated  the  air  of  Italy  before 
it  infected  its  architecture. 


ni 

Florence  was  the  cradle  of  the  Renaissance, 
Rome  was  its  school,  Lombardy  and  Venice  were 
its  playground.  The  passion  for  studying  the 
literature  and  art  of  Rome  inevitably  brought  with 
it  the  passion  for  imitating  them.  The  first  effec- 
tive beginning  of  it  was  in  Florence,  which  in  the 
fourteenth  century  became  the  most  progressive 
city  in  Italy  and  the  most  alive,  the  very  focus  of 
the  best  activity,  commercial,  financial,  political, 
literary,  and  artistic.  The  band  of  literary  men 
who  gathered  in  her  to  follow  the  lead  of  Petrarch 
and  Boccaccio — Niccoli,  Manetti,  Bruni,  Salutato, 
Latini,  Leonardo  of  Arezzo,  Poggio,  Thomas  of 
Sarzana,  who  as  Pope  Nicholas  Y.  carried  the  im- 
pulse of  the  Renaissance  to  Rome — all  these  spread 
the  flame  and  set  Italy  on  fire  with  it.  The  story 
of  Petrarch  and  his  friend  Colonna  sitting  on  the 


THE  RENAISSANCE 


237 


.Colosseum  and  mourning  over  the  fallen  monu- 
ments of  Eome  is  a  familiar  one,  as  is  that  of 
Kienzi's  deciphering  and  theatrical  proclamation 
of  old  inscriptions  of  the  city.  There  is  no  indi- 
cation, it  is  true,  that  either  Petrarch  or  Rienzi 
cared  anything  for  Roman  monuments  as  works  of 
art ;  but  it  was  not  a  long  step  from  the  literature 
of  Rome  to  her  art,  and  at  an  epoch  of  exuberant 
artistic  activity  it  was  impossible  th/fl;  zeal  for  the 
one  should  not  soon  come  to  include  the  other. 

We  may  call  the  famous  competition  for  the  new 
doors  of  the  baptistery  at  Florence  in  1403  the 
signal  for  the  Renaissance  in  art.  After  his  dis- 
appointment in  this  competition  Brunelleschi,  who 
had  imbibed  the  prevailing  spirit  of  worship  for 
the  antique,  and  was  beset,  moreover,  with  the 
idea  of  the  greater  competition  for  finishing  the 
cathedral,  which  had  been  left  without  its  central 
cupola  by  Arnolfo  a  century  before,  went  to  Rome 
determined  to  prepare  himself  by  study  of  the  re- 
mains of  the  imperial  architecture  there.  He  was 
the  first  person,  so  far  as  we  know,  who  gave  him- 
self systematically  to  this  study  of  antique  build- 
ings ;  it  engrossed  him  for  some  years,  during 
which  he  examined,  measured,  and  carefully  re- 
corded all  the  remains  of  antique  building  that  he 
had  access  to.  When  he  returned  he  came  pre- 
pared for  the  competition  of  the  cathedral,  full  of 
ideas  and  great  projects  for  the  revival  of  classic 


238 


THE  RENAISSANCE 


architecture.  His  appointment  as  architect  of  the 
Duomo  set  the  seal  of  a  great  success  on  the  new 
movement,  and  made  him  the  representative  ar- 
chitect of  Florence.  All  the  greatest  buildings  of 
the  time  gravitated  naturally  into  Brunelleschi's 
hands.  In  his  greatest  work,  the  dome  of  the 
cathedral,  the  exigencies  of  the  constructive  prob- 
lem seem  to  have  governed  his  design.  There 
was  no  Koman  precedent  for  such  a  dome,  and  it 
is  only  in  some  of  the  subordinate  details  that  his 
classic  predilections  appear.  The  less  exacting 
designs  that  he  executed  while  this  was  going  on 
show  how  entirely  he  broke  with  the  traditions  of 
his  day.  The  little  chapel  of  the  Pazzi,  built  in 
1420,  where  small  domes  on  pendentives  above 
round  Roman  vaulting  are  carried  on  a  Corinthian 
order,  made  an  epoch  by  the  novelty  and  grace 
of  its  design,  and  is  still  a  delight  to  architects. 
Before  his  death  in  1446  he  had  built  the  great 
church  of  San  Lorenzo,  the  hospital  of  the  Inno- 
centi  Avitli  its  graceful  arcaded  loggia,  had  begun 
the  Pitti  Palace,  and  left  a  design  for  the  church 
of  San  Spirito  which  was  carried  out  after  his 
death.  Tliere  is  some  reason  for  believing  that 
he  also  planned  for  Cosimo  dei  Medici  the  Eic- 
cardi  Palace,  which  was  built  after  his  death  by 
Michelozzo.  Perhaps  the  most  striking  example 
of  the  originality  of  his  conceptions  and  the  clas- 
sic feeling  that  underlay  them  was  the  great  round 


SAN  SPIRITO— FLORENCE 
Brunelleschi's  Order 


THE  RENAISSANCE 


239 


church  of  Santi  Angeli,  which  also  was  left  to  be 
built  by  his  successors  from  his  plans,  but  was 
only  carried  a  few  feet  above  the  ground,  and 
whose  dishonored  remains,  hidden  among  the 
houses  of  Florence,  are  unseen  by  most  travellers. 
Brunelleschi's  influence  turned  the  course  of  archi- 
tecture in  Florence.  The  second  great  apostle  of 
the  Renaissance,  Alberti,  had  already  appeared  in 
Florence,  had  visited  Rome  to  study  as  Brunel- 
leschi  had  studied,  and  to  collect  the  knowledge 
which  he  embodied  in  his  treatise  De  Re  ^difica- 
toria.  He  devoted  himself  to  the  study  of  Vitru- 
vius's  book,  which  had  been  discovered  in  a  con- 
vent by  Poggio  on  his  journey  to  the  Council  of 
Constance  in  1414,  though  we  have  no  evidence 
that  Brunelleschi  had  seen  it.  By  the  middle  of 
the  century  the  new  style  had  spread  to  other  im- 
portant cities  in  Italy.  Brunelleschi  himself  had 
carried  it  to  Milan,  Mantua,  and  Ferrara,  his  dis- 
ciple Michelozzo  to  Venice,  Alberti  to  Rimini. 
Bernardo  Rossellino  had  learned  the  trick  and  was 
joined  with  Michelozzo  in  finishing  the  lantern  for 
Brunelleschi's  dome.  In  1450  Thomas  of  Sarzana, 
now  become  Nicholas  V.,  the  coryphaeus  of  the  men 
of  letters  of  the  fifteenth  centuiy,  summoned  Alberti 
and  Rossellino  to  Rome  to  undertake  the  building 
of  the  great  new  church  of  St.  Peter,  and  from  this 
time  the  Renaissance  took  possession  of  the  archi- 
tecture of  Italy,  as  it  had  before  of  her  literature. 


240 


THE  RENAISSANCE 


If  the  Kenaissance  was,  as  I  have  said,  a  fashion 
in  literature,  it  was  more  stringently  a  fashion  in 
architecture.  For  whereas  before  the  Renaissance 
Italy  scarcely  had  a  literature,  she  had  an  abund- 
ant and  vigorous  architecture,  the  luxuriant  growth 
of  five  centuries  since  she  had  begun  to  recover 
from  her  invasions.  Her  builders  were  busy  prac- 
tical men,  absorbed  in  their  own  traditions,  work- 
ing in  an  established  style  with  the  accumulated 
skill  of  many  generations.  The  introduction  of  the 
Gothic  style  into  Italy  had  been  a  fashion,  it  is 
true,  but  it  was  a  fashion  born  in  the  regular  de- 
velopment of  architecture.  It  was  the  builders  of 
the  north  who  had  conceived  and  worked  out  all 
that  was  vital  in  that  style ;  it  was  the  logical  out- 
come of  the  Lombard  Romanesque  which  had  been 
developed  alike  in  Italy  and  in  Germany.  It  was 
at  least  a  strictly  professional  importation  into 
Italy,  brought  in  by  builders  themselves,  by  the 
Cistercians  in  middle  Italy,  in  Casamari  and  Fos- 
sanova  for  instance,  elsewhere  by  specially  im- 
ported masters  from  the  north,  in  Vercelli,  Milan, 
Assisi.  Received  rather  slowly  by  the  Italian 
builders,  it  had  been  gradually  amalgamated  with 
the  native  styles,  modified  by  native  prejudices, 
and  consolidated  into  a  manner  which  was  at  last 
very  different  from  the  northern  style  and  dis- 
tinctly Italian.  The  builders  had  not  had  to  give 
up  their  traditional  ideas  of  construction  and  com- 


THE  RENAISSANCE 


241 


position,  to  accept  any  radically  new  theories,  or 
conform  to  an  essentially  new  taste.  They  had 
only  to  adapt  certain  new  motives  of  decoration  to 
their  old  forms  of  buildings,  and  they  did  it  of 
their  own  election,  not  under  any  outside  dicta- 
tion. To  have  thoroughly  adopted  the  Gothic 
of  the  north  they  would  have  had  to  do  much 
more,  but  they  stopped  with  this,  and  their  Italian 
Gothic  was  only  Italian  Eomanesque  dressed  out 
in  Gothic  detail. 

The  classic  revival,  on  the  other  hand,  was  not 
extended  to  architecture  by  men  who  were  bred  to 
building,  but  by  men  who  were  attracted  into  it 
from  outside,  by  amateurs  who  came  with  a  mission 
of  reform.  Artists  they  were,  but  not  architects. 
Brunelleschi,  who  was  first  a  goldsmith  and  then  a 
sculptor,  did  not  begin  his  career  as  an  architect 
till  he  was  more  than  forty  years  old ;  we  have 
seen  that  he  was  tempted  into  it  by  the  problem  of 
putting  the  dome  upon  the  cathedral  of  Florence. 
It  was  only  by  virtue  of  a  commanding  genius,  an 
unequalled  opportunity,  a  tact  and  persistency 
that  overbore  every  resistance  that  he  won  and 
held  his  place.  Alberti  was  an  aristocrat,  a  scholar, 
and  a  genius  as  well,  but  never  a  thoroughly  qual- 
ified architect.  Beginning  as  a  man  of  letters, 
then  a  painter,  and  at  last  in  the  mere  swing  of  his 
orbit  brought  round  to  architecture,  he  was  carried 
into  his  position  of  a  leader  of  the  Renaissance 


243 


TEE  RENAISSANCE 


only  by  his  own  individuality  and  by  being  on  the 
crest  of  the  wave  of  a  great  new  movement.  The 
two  were  in  fact  enthusiastic  amateurs  without 
habits  or  prepossessions  that  bound  them  to  old 
ways  of  building  ;  their  only  restraint  was  in  their 
imperfect  knowledge  of  what  they  had  to  do. 
Brunelleschi  had  no  guide  but  his  own  observa- 
tion and  instinct ;  Alberti  found  Vitruvius  to  give 
him  a  clew  to  the  scheme  of  classical  design  which 
he  was  eagerly  searching  out.  Both  felt  from  the 
beginning  that  the  secret  lay  in  first  subjecting 
one's  whole  composition  to  a  scheme  of  carefully 
combined  proportions,  and  in  adjusting  every  part 
in  harmonious  relation  to  this.  It  was  what  Al- 
berti meant  by  his  much  quoted  phrase,  "  tutta 
quella  musica"  With  the  help  of  Vitruvius's  pre- 
cepts, which  were  perhaps  more  transparent  to 
him  than  to  us  of  to-day,  and  by  comparison  with 
his  measurements  of  Eoman  monuments,  he  de- 
duced a  system  of  minute  proportions  which  he 
embodied  in  his  treatise,  and  it  must  be  said  that 
by  virtue  of  it  he  came  nearer  than  any  of  his  con- 
temporaries, in  his  facades  for  San  Francesco  at 
Eimini  and  San  Andrea  at  Mantua,  to  that  look  of 
classic  authenticity  at  which  he  aimed. 


THE  RENAISSANCE 


243 


IV 

Tlie  central  task  of  the  architects  of  the  Ee- 
naissance  was  to  bring  back  the  classic  order  in  its 
supremacy.  This  meant  a  radical  change  not  only 
in  the  forms  employed  in  building,  but  in  the  con- 
ceptions and  feeling  of  the  builder.  It  was  not 
only  a  reversion  from  the  architecture  of  the  arch 
to  that  of  the  lintel  and  entablature,  and  an  ex- 
change of  the  decorative  forms  of  mediaeval  art  to 
classic  ;  it  meant  also  a  revolution  in  artistic  habit, 
in  the  sense  of  the  relative  importance  of  parts,  of 
proportion  and  adjustment,  that  guided  the  de- 
signer in  his  work  ;  and  this,  as  he  knows,  is  a 
more  fundamental  revolution  than  the  other.  It 
meant  nothing  less  than  a  change  of  heart  in  the 
artist.  No  wonder  that  this  went  on  somewhat 
slowly ;  in  the  ordinary  course  of  human  devel- 
opment it  would  have  cost  as  many  centuries  as 
the  generations  that  were  actually  occupied  in  it. 
But  it  was  helped  by  an  extraordinary  coincidence 
of  changes  in  the  life  of  Italy,  by  an  extraordinary 
advance  for  the  moment  in  political  stability,  re- 
pose, accumulation  of  wealth,  and  luxury  of  living, 
and  at  the  same  time  a  metamorphosis  of  taste  in 
literature  and  art  which  was  really  sudden.  Only 
such  causes,  with  the  appearance  of  a  new  class  of 
leaders  backed  by  authority,  wealth,  and  the  at- 


% 


244 


THE  RENAISSANCE 


traction  of  a  new  fasliion  could  have  carried  it 
through.  It  needed  also  a  community  active- 
minded,  progressive,  with  a  natural  tendency  to 
expression  in  art,  and  an  underlying  sympathy 
with  the  direction  in  which  the  movement  was 
made.  Such  a  community  with  such  a  sympathy 
was  found  in  Florence  in  the  fifteenth  century. 

There  are  many  indications  that  the  new  move- 
ment met  opposition,  instinctive  and  perhaps  un- 
conscious where  it  was  not  deliberate.  The  con- 
vent-bred clergy,  the  democratic  and  conservative 
body  in  the  Church,  the  godparents  of  the  Roman- 
esque architecture  in  the  north,  doggedly  resisted 
the  whole  Renaissance  movement  from  the  first. 
They  saw  in  the  beginning  that  its  literature 
threatened  their  spiritual  authority  ;  they  accused 
it,  not  without  reason,  of  immorality  and  impiety. 
It  was  not  natural  that  they  should  see  with  pa- 
tience the  contemptuous  setting  aside  of  mediaeval 
architecture,  the  daughter  and  the  glory  of  the 
Church.  It  did  not  make  the  new  style  more 
welcome  that  it  was  favored  in  Italy  by  an  aris- 
tocratic and  worldly  secular  clergy.  The  clerical 
opposition  was  not  confined  to  the  monks  or  to 
the  beginnings  of  the  Renaissance.  Two  attempts 
were  made  to  finish  the  cathedral  of  Milan  in  the 
new  style,  one  when  Brunelleschi  was  called  in 
1430  to  consult  about  the  building  of  the  dome, 
another  a  century  later  when  Pellegrini  began  a 


THE  RENAISSANCE 


245 


neo-classic  fagade  ;  both  attempts  were  frustrated, 
and  it  remained  for  Napoleon  to  introduce  discord 
into  its  harmony.  But  the  friction  of  the  styles 
showed  itself  also  in  a  different  way.  Outside 
Tuscany,  and  wherever  the  mediaeval  traditions  of 
building  were  strong,  though  the  new  style  made 
its  way  fast,  it  was  by  admixture  with  the  old,  not 
by  at  once  displacing  it.  The  change  appeared 
first  in  the  ornament  of  buildings  of  the  old  pro- 
portion and  design.  Classic  details,  taken  from 
the  lesser  decorative  works  of  Koman  art,  cippi, 
candelabra,  vases,  or  monuments  like  the  so-called 
Arch  of  the  Silversmiths  or  Goldsmiths  at  Rome, 
are  naively  interpolated  into  unclassic  composi- 
tions— finely  wrought  arabesques,  capitals  and  con- 
soles, string-courses  and  cornices  of  classic  pro- 
file, delicate  pilasters,  pediments  and  small  orders, 
refined  away  from  the  robustness  and  self-assertion 
of  the  classic  types,  a  great  profusion  of  surface 
ornament  and  surface  color.  The  builders  and 
artisans  could  not  at  once  surrender  themselves 
frankly  to  ihe  new  mode.  This  is  specially  char- 
acteristic of  Lombardy  in  the  fifteenth  century, 
and  of  Venice,  where  the  Byzantine  feeling  for 
polychrome  material  and  surface  decoration  lin- 
gered long.  We  see  it  in  Fra  Giocondo's  famous 
loggia  at  Yerona,  in  the  oratory  of  San  Bernar- 
dino at  Perugia,  in  the  church  of  Sta.  Maria  dei 
Miracoli,  the  Dario  Palace  and  other  works  of  the 


246 


THE  RENAISSANCE 


Lombardi  at  Venice.  There  was  in  this  transitional 
work  of  builders  who  inherited  the  mediaeval  feel- 
ing, a  charm  of  abundant  fancy,  of  picturesque- 
ness,  grace,  and  freedom  that  has  delighted  the 
world.  It  was  short-lived ;  the  inevitable  progress 
of  the  revival  swept  it  away  and  it  gave  place  to  a 
classic  formalism. 

In  Florence,  where  the  remnant  of  classic  taste 
provided  a  natural  milieu,  where  the  leaders  were 
not  builders,  and  where  the  literary  impulse  of 
classicism  was  already  dominant,  the  style  grew 
differently ;  there  was  no  transition.  Brunelleschi 
and  Alberti,  the  Peter  and  Paul  of  the  Renaissance, 
were  fully  absorbed  in  the  new,  with  no  habits  or 
prepossessions  that  bound  them  to  the  old.  The 
sense  of  the  proportions  on  which  Roman  design 
was  built  was,  to  be  sure,  only  partially  awake  in 
Brunelleschi.  His  lean  entablatures  and  starved 
orders,  the  baldness  of  his  details,  contrast  notably 
with  the  freshness  and  nobility  of  his  ideas  and 
with  their  classic  intention.  Both  he  and  Alberti 
were  too  intent  on  their  large  conception  of  the 
architect's  task  to  give  their  best  thought  to  de- 
tail, and,  moreover,  for  lack  of  training,  both  were 
probably  incapable  of  designing  it  or  criticising  it 
finely.  They  took  care  that  their  detail  should  be 
classic  in  style  and  that  it  sliould  keep  its  place 
unobtrusively  in  their  compositions ;  but  they  could 
not  avoid  a  certain  prim  baldness  that  character- 


THE  RENAISSANCE 


247 


izes  their  work,  nor  secure  the  charm  which  a  free 
fancy  and  practised  delicacy  of  handling  gave  to 
the  detail  of  the  Lombard  and  Venetian  builders. 
But  from  the  beginning,  if  the  classicism  of  Bru- 
nelleschi  and  Alberti  was  imperfect,  it  was  ex- 
clusive. In  their  work  was  no  reminiscence  of  all 
the  centuries  that  had  come  and  gone  between 
them  and  the  reign  of  Diocletian.  There  was,  as  I 
have  just  said,  no  transition  for  them ;  it  was  an 
absolute  breaking  off,  and  a  fresh  beginning. 

Bramante,  the  third  of  the  great  classicists,  was 
of  a  different  kind.  Coming  from  Umbria  into 
Lombardy  as  a  painter,  he  decorated  the  walls  and 
ceilings  of  many  churches  and  palaces,  and  turn- 
ing naturally  to  architecture,  entered  it  through 
a  professional  door.  His  earlier  buildings,  exe- 
cuted in  the  last  quarter  of  the  fifteenth  century, 
show  the  traditions  of  the  old  style  mingled  with 
the  new,  or  rather  the  details  of  the  new  engrafted 
on  the  forms  of  the  old,  in  the  way  I  have  men- 
tioned. In  the  choir  which  was  added  to  Sta. 
Maria  delle  Grazie  at  Milan  from  his  designs,  and 
in  many  other  churches  which  are  ascribed  to  him 
in  Lombard  cities,  we  see  the  free  handling  of 
classic  forms,  the  crowding  of  columns  and  arcades, 
the  exuberance  and  animation  of  detail,  the  pictu- 
resque composition,  which  the  Renaissance  of  Lom- 
bardy inherited  from  her  Romanesque.  When, 
moved  by  the  common  impulse  of  the  time,  and  by 


248 


THE  REXAISSANCE 


the  desire  to  study  Eoman  building  at  first  hand, 
he  came  to  Kome  in  1500,  he  had  passed  his  flam- 
boyant period  ;  he  was  fifty  years  old,  matured  and 
long  practised  in  all  the  routine  of  architecture. 
Here,  under  the  influence  of  the  Roman  monuments, 
he  changed  his  manner  completely,  turning  to  sim- 
plicity and  grandeur  of  design  and  to  strictness  of 
classical  style.  The  continuation,  or  rather  com- 
plete renewal,  of  the  new  St.  Peter's,  begun  fifty 
years  before  for  Nicholas  Y.  by  Alberti  and  Eos- 
sellino  and  now  put  into  his  hands  by  Julius  II., 
gave  him  his  great  opportunity.  He  entirely  remod- 
elled the  design,  giving  it  the  enormous  scale  and 
greatness  of  conception  which  make  it  the  wonder 
that  it  is  in  spite  of  all  the  alteration  that  has  be- 
fallen it,  even  though  not  a  stone  that  he  laid  be 
now  visible. 

With  Nicholas  Y.  the  centre  of  the  Renaissance 
in  literature  and  art  shifted  from  Florence  to  Rome. 
Four  great  popes  who  held  the  chair  at  intervals 
during  the  second  half  of  the  fifteenth  century 
and  the  first  quarter  of  the  sixteenth — Nicholas 
himself,  Pius  11. ,  Julius  II.,  and  Leo  X.— gave 
their  energy  to  forwarding  it.  The  greatest  men  of 
letters  of  the  time — none  were  very  great,  it  must 
be  confessed — and  the  greatest  artists,  crowded 
about  them,  or  were  compelled  into  their  retinues. 
Rome,  whose  abiding  influence  had  inspired  the 
whole  movement,  now  claimed  her  men,  and  be- 


THE  RENAISSANCE 


249 


came  the  focus  of  their  activity.  Her  lonuments 
schooled  them  ;  her  new  wealth  and  worldly  activ- 
ity stimulated  them.  Bramante's  great  schemes, 
and  the  buildings  which  he  actually  executed, 
seemed  to  renew  the  traditions  of  the  Empire. 
The  disciples  and  followers  whom  he  personally 
influenced,  Peruzzi,  Kaphael,  Andrea  Sansovino, 
and  many  others,  even  the  indocile  Michelangelo, 
took  the  tradition  from  him,  carrying  it  on  with 
fuller  knowledge  and  better  trained  hands,  but 
with  no  greater  power,  and  hardly  with  so  high  a 
reach  of  conception.  The  renewed  prosperity  of 
Rome,  the  worldly  splendor  with  which  the  great 
popes  of  the  sixteenth  century  surrounded  them- 
selves, concurred  with  the  quick  growth  of  the  new 
arts  ;  and  the  city  became  again  as  much  the  model 
of  the  world's  magnificence,  the  leader  of  its  civili- 
zation, as  it  had  been  in  the  reign  of  Augustus. 


V 

The  effort  of  the  three  pioneers,  Brunelleschi, 
Alberti,  and  Bramante,  to  adapt  the  forms  of  Ro- 
man architecture  to  the  uses  of  their  century  met 
an  obstacle  in  that  combination  of  the  arch  and 
the  column  which  had  become  habitual  in  the 
Middle  Ages.  Bi'unelleschi  had  found  the  arch 
joined  to  the  column,  and  exalted  above  it ;  for  in 
Romanesque  building  the  column,  though  it  was 


250 


THE  RENAISSANCE 


peculiarly  petted  and  put  forward  on  every  oppor- 
tunity, had  been  still  a  servant,  everywhere  domi- 
nated by  the  arch.  Even  he  never  went  so  far  as 
to  subject  the  arch  to  the  order  in  the  Eoman 
fashion.  In  the  Capella  Pazzi  he  had  set  his  vault- 
ing over  a  continuous  order  borne  by  columns.  In 
his  great  interiors  of  San  Lorenzo  and  San  Spir- 
ito,  it  is  true,  he  followed  the  method  of  the  halls 
of  the  Roman  baths,  carrying  his  great  arches  on 
blocks  of  entablature  over  single  columns ;  but  in 
smaller  compositions,  such  as  the  loggia  of  the 
Innocenti  and  the  cloister  of  Sta.  Croce,  he  fol- 
lowed frankly  the  mediaeval  way,  and  set  his 
arcades  directly  on  the  capitals  of  columns.  This 
method  could  not  be  displaced,  by  reason  of  its 
convenience  and  naturalness;  it  remained  the  ruling 
one  for  the  arcades  of  galleries  and  courts.  Its 
use  in  the  early  Renaissance  is  gracefully  and  pict- 
uresquely shown  in  the  familiar  cloisters  of  the 
Certosa  at  Pavia.  Indeed,  at  this  period  the  col- 
umn was  mostly  reserved  for  this  use,  and  in  pairs 
for  the  ornament  of  doorways,  the  pilaster  being 
the  general  favorite.  But  Alberti,  free  as  he  was 
from  any  medijeval  prepossession  or  influence  of 
habit  or  even  of  convenience,  had  a  truly  classic 
reverence  for  the  column  and  the  entablature.  He 
felt  strongly  the  dignity  and  individuality  of  the 
order,  and  urged  that  while  people  of  moderate 
station  might  bo  content  with  arcades,  distiu- 


THE  RENAISSANCE 


251 


guished  citizens  should  build  their  loggias  with 
entablatures.  Nevertheless,  perhaps  he  found  an 
entablature  intractable  in  a  vaulted  gallery,  for  he 
set  the  Kucellai  loggia  on  arcades. 

The  entablature  was  repugnant  to  the  habits  of 
builders  outside  of  Tuscany  and  Eome.  They 
had  habitually  reduced  their  cornices  and  horizon- 
tal members  to  great  thinness.  The  multiplied 
horizontal  banding  and  especially  the  vigorously 
projecting  cornice  of  the  entablature  seem  to  have 
gone  very  much  against  their  grain,  and  as  they 
began  to  use  them  they  thinned  and  flattened  them 
till  they  were  the  mere  ghosts  of  classic  forms. 
Cornices  and  string-courses  were  to  these  builders 
merely  the  ornaments  and  borderings  of  the  walls 
which  were  to  them  the  substance  of  architecture ; 
it  was  not  easy  to  look  on  these  as  essential  com- 
ponents of  a  building.  Brunelleschi  himself,  re- 
moved as  he  was  from  mediaeval  tradition,  would 
seem  to  have  been  influenced  by  the  things  he  had 
about  him,  and  could  never  compass  the  true 
robust  richness  of  the  classic  orders.  Alberti, 
beginning  where  Brunelleschi  had  left  off,  and 
helped  forward  by  Yitruvius,  did  hit  pretty  well 
their  original  proportions.  In  the  church  at  Ki- 
mini,  which  Sigismondo  Malatesta  filched  from 
St.  Francis  to  dedicate  it  to  a  mistress,  and  which 
Alberti  undertook  to  turn  into  a  temple,  and  in  his 
greater  church  of  San  Andrea  at  Mantua,  Alborti's 


252 


THE  RENAISSANCE 


orders  have  the  classic  look.  Here,  too,  he  took  the 
step  which  for  the  first  time  assured  the  triumph 
of  the  order,  by  putting  the  arch  under  it  in  the 
true  Roman  fashion.  After  him  better  trained 
designers  continued  the  work,  the  look  of  rawness 
which  still  marred  Alberti's  orders  was  refined 
away,  and  by  the  time  of  Bramante's  coming  to 
Rome,  in  1500,  the  proportions  both  of  the  order 
and  of  the  Roman  arcade  were  mastered.  The 
beautiful  loggia  or  open  narthex  of  the  cathedral 
at  Spoleto,  built  at  the  end  of  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury, which  has  been  ascribed  to  Bramante  but 
was  really  designed  by  the  two  Pippi  of  Florence, 
shows  the  mastery  not  only  of  the  order  but  of 
the  classic  arcade  that  architects  had  reached  at 
that  date,  and  fitly  marks  the  end  of  the  stage 
which  has  been  called  the  early  Renaissance. 

Up  to  this  time  the  architects'  effort  had  been 
to  adapt  classic  forms  to  the  needs  of  the  fifteenth 
century,  apparently  with  no  thought  that  the  two 
were  in  any  wise  discordant ;  it  had  been  the 
habit  of  centuries  to  suit  pliant  forms  to  positive 
requirements.  In  the  north  the  vault,  being  the 
primary  constructive  necessity  of  building,  had 
controlled  the  secondary  forms  ;  in  Italy  men  had 
built  what  structures  pleased  them  or  suited  their 
wants,  and  had  moulded  the  forms  with  facile 
adaptation  to  them.  But  now  the  inviolability  of 
the  order  had  been  enforced  by  the  law  of  Vitru- 


THE  RENAISSANCE 


253 


vius,  by  the  precept  of  Alberti,  and  the  practice  of 
his  followers.  After  two  generations  of  artists  had 
spent  their  powers  in  deducing  as  by  scientific 
analysis  its  immutable  types,  and  in  educating 
themselves  to  its  appreciation,  it  put  on  for  them 
a  sanctity  such  as  the  Greeks  had  attributed  to  it. 
The  problem  changed;  it  became  the  architect's 
work  to  devise  buildings  which  would  suit  the  or- 
ders that  were  to  cover  them.  Under  Bramante's 
successors,  Eaphael,  Peruzzi,  the  Sangalli,  Sanso- 
vino,  Yignola,  and  the  rest,  the  knowledge  of 
Eoman  models  and  the  Koman  system  became 
clearer,  till  all  was  learned  from  them  that  could 
be  learned.  It  Avas  impossible  not  to  come  at  last 
to  the  conclusion  that  in  the  most  impressive  and 
monumental  works  of  the  Romans,  the  temples  and 
triumphal  arches  and  porticos,  the  order  itself, 
alone  or  combined  with  an  arch,  was  the  monu- 
ment, and  that  the  greater  the  scale  the  more  im- 
pressive was  the  order.  Through  the  fifteenth 
century  the  straightforward  mediaeval  habit  of 
building  in  obvious  stories  was  maintained,  and 
the  order  was  almost  invariably  limited  to  the 
height  of  a  single  story.  The  uncompromising 
Alberti,  to  be  sure,  had  used  in  San  Andrea  at 
Mantua,  both  outside  and  in,  a  single  order  sixty 
feet  high,  covering  the  whole  height  of  the  wall. 
With  the  great  leaders  there  had  been  a  steady 
pursuit  of  the  simplicity  of  composition  and  large- 


254 


THE  RENAISSANCE 


ness  of  scale  that  belonged  to  classic  building. 
The  underlying  classical  idea  that  a  great  building 
was  to  be  designed,  not  by  multiplying  its  parts, 
but  by  increasing  the  scale  of  them,  was  altogether 
in  consonance  with  the  Florentine  feeling.  The 
great  interior  arches  of  the  cathedral  show  this, 
and  also  those  of  the  Loggia  dei  Lanzi ;  maturer 
study  of  the  monuments  of  ancient  Rome  enforced 
it  on  every  student.  In  their  palaces,  the  Renais- 
sance leaders,  controlled  by  practical  conditions, 
consented  to  multiply  orders  and  restrain  their 
scale,  but  there  was  a  constant  tendency  to  increase 
of  scale  and  toward  making  a  single  order  the 
dominating  element  of  a  design.  Bramante  began 
his  work  in  Rome  with  the  little  TemjnettOf  as  it 
was  called,  of  San  Pietro  in  Montorio,  in  which  to 
the  delight  of  his  fellows  for  the  first  time  since 
imperial  times  a  building  was  constructed  out  of 
an  order  and  nothing  more.  The  tendency  reached 
its  climax  in  his  design  for  St.  Peter's,  where  he 
proposed  a  single  gigantic  order  to  cover  the  whole 
building,  both  outside  and  in,  as  Alberti  had  done 
at  Mantua,  but  on  a  still  greater  scale.  Antonio 
Sangallo,  coming  after,  and  as  if  startled  by  this 
audacious  venture,  would  have  substituted  two 
stories  of  orders ;  but  when  Michelangelo  was 
called  by  Paul  III.  to  carry  on  the  church,  he  de- 
clared, as  the  world  knows,  that  Sangallo  by  mul- 
tiplying the  parts  of  the  building  was  making  a 


SAN  ANDREA— MANTUA 
Alberti's  Order 


THE  RENAISSANCE 


255 


Gothic  design  instead  of  a  classical,  and  that  every 
step  away  from  Bramante's  intention  was  a  step 
in  the  wrong  direction.  He  restored  the  single 
order  and  built  it  as  Bramante  apparently  in- 
tended on  a  scale  which  had  never  been  equalled, 
making  it  a  hundred  feet  high,  and  grouping  under 
it  the  windows  of  two  stories,  and  in  some  places 
of  four. 

This  treatment  was  too  obviously  the  logical 
conclusion  of  a  classic  revival  which  had  been 
born  of  scholarly  enthusiasm  and  educated  by 
pedantry  not  to  prevail.  As  soon  as  the  single 
order  was  exhibited  on  a  colossal  scale  it  convinced 
and  was  adopted.  It  became  the  prevailing  motive 
of  classic  design  in  churches,  especially  within, 
where  it  suits  well  with  their  natural  ordinance ; 
in  secular  buildings  also  it  became  a  habit  to  put 
two  or  three  stories  under  one  order,  a  habit  which 
the  world  has  never  outgrown.  There  is  no  doubt 
that  the  device  added  grandeur  to  architecture.  It 
is  difficult  to  believe  that  St.  Peter's  and  the  other 
great  church  interiors  that  were  so  built  would 
not  lose  something  of  their  majesty  by  any  other 
classic  treatment.  Even  the  necessity  of  multiply- 
ing stories  under  the  great  order  tended  to  give  it 
scale,  and  prevented  its  size  from  being  lost  in  the 
effect.  On  the  other  hand,  this  combination  of 
several  stories  in  one  order  was  inharmonious  and 
essentially  unclassic,  a  forced  union  which  Greeks 


256 


THE  RENAISSANCE 


and  Eomans  bad  never  attempted,  and  hostile  to 
the  very  simplicity  at  which  the  architects  aimed. 
But  its  stateliness  as  well  as  its  novelty  and  its 
descent  recommended  it  to  an  age  in  which 
kings  and  princes,  rising  in  power  and  Tvealth, 
were  gathering  about  them  a  ceremonious  magnif- 
icence. Its  use  spread  rapidly  over  Italy,  and 
more  slowly  over  the  north  of  Europe,  where  in 
general  the  new  style  established  itself  nearly  a 
century  later  than  in  Italy.  It  produced  what  has 
been  called  the  Grand  Style,  what  the  French 
recognize  as  the  Louis  Quatorze  style,  the  style 
in  which  Philip  II.  built  the  Escorial  in  Spain,  the 
style  of  Inigo  Jones  and  Wren  in  England.  It 
was  the  outcome  of  an  overstrained  effort  to  retrace 
a  past  art,  to  apply  its  unyielding  methods  to  the 
obdurate  requirements  of  a  new  life,  to  do  as  the 
Romans  did  under  conditions  which  the  Romans 
never  met ;  it  was  Humanism  in  architecture,  the 
reductio  ad  absurdum  of  the  Neo-Classic  move- 
ment. 

VI 

Meanwhile  the  study  of  the  formulae  recorded 
by  Vitruvius  and  enforced  by  Alberti  became 
closer.  Yitruvius's  book  was  made  the  Koran  of 
a  new  faith.  The  great  architects  of  the  sixteenth 
century  —  Yignola,  Serlio,  Scamozzi,  Palladio  — 
turned  law-givers  and  each  wrote  his  treatise,  ex- 


THE  RENAISSANCE 


257 


pounding  Vitruvius,  or  propounding  their  own 
system  of  measures,  prescribing  the  proportions  of 
every  part  of  the  order  with  wonderful  minute- 
ness. Thus  they  labored,  as  the  Eomans  had  in 
their  day,  to  reduce  the  elements  of  architectural 
design  to  a  system  in  which  they  could  be  freely 
handled,  an-anged,  and  rearranged  like  blocks 
in  a  geometrical  mosaic.  Only  in  this  way,  per- 
haps, could  these  men  have  accomplished  the  im- 
mense amount  of  work  that  they  produced ;  only 
in  this  way  could  the  individual  have  left  his 
mark  on  it  in  every  part  as  he  did,  by  making 
every  part  exactly  repeat  every  corresponding 
part. 

It  ill  becomes  those  who  walk  in  the  footsteps 
of  others,  said  Michelangelo,  to  claim  that  they  go 
beyond  them.  Nevertheless,  it  is  but  just  to  say 
that  the  architects  of  the  Renaissance  were  great- 
er artists  than  those  of  the  Empire.  They  stood 
socially,  and  probably  in  attainment,  on  a  higher 
level ;  they  assumed  to  go  beyond  even  the  range 
of  acquirement  which  Vitruvius  marks  out  for  his 
model  architect.  For  they  were  educated  in  the 
best  fashion  of  their  day  ;  many  of  them  were  the 
companions  of  princes  and  the  favorites  of  culti- 
vated courts.  Lorenzo  dei  Medici  maintained,  we 
are  told,  that  aristocratic  birth  favored  the  artist's 
perfection,  and  that  poverty  was  a  hindrance  to 
inspiration.    The  aristocracy  of  the  Renaissance 


258 


THE  RENAISSANCE 


was  a  musliroom  aristocracy,  it  raust  be  confessed, 
as  the  Medici  were,  but  its  culture  and  its  aptness 
for  art  were  higher  than  those  of  the  Eoman  pa- 
triciate ;  and  they  were  reflected  in  its  arts.  The 
constant  aim  of  the  artists  was  for  perfection,  as 
they  conceived  it,  just  as  the  Greeks  whom  they 
revered  without  knowing  them  had  aimed.  If 
their  work  had  not  in  tlie  same  degree  as  the 
Greek  its  splendid  and  serene  dignity,  or  that  high 
fineness  which  the  French  call  spirituel,  these  men 
did  bring  back  in  a  new  shape  the  refined  richness 
and  delicacy  which  distinguished  Greek  architect- 
ure from  Eoman.  All  the  ornament  of  their 
buildings  was  studied  with  a  fastidiousness  which 
the  Roman  had  not  known.  It  had  the  charm  of 
a  vitality  that  had  gone  out  under  the  Empire. 
They  invented  a  hundred  new  details  which  found 
places  naturally  in  their  architecture,  and  a  whole 
school  of  rich  and  delicate  carved  ornament  which 
took  its  color  from  the  Boman,  yet  excelled  it  as 
the  rose  excels  the  peony.  Though  they  avoided 
the  Gothic  system  of  construction,  or  dissembled 
it  as  in  the  great  domes  of  Florence  and  St. 
Peter's,  mediaeval  vaulting  provided  them  a  great 
store  of  new  expedients  for  covering  interiors, 
vaults  of  a  great  variety  of  shape,  and  especially 
the  dome  on  pendentives  which  set  the  keynote 
for  their  most  magnificent  designs.  Their  archi- 
tecture surpassed  the  Roman  in  beauty  and  re- 


THE  RENAISSANCE 


259 


finement,  if  it  could  not  outdo  it  in  stateliness 
and  richness. 

But,  as  we  have  seen,  the  struggle  for  perfection 
of  form  ended  in  formalism  ;  and  of  this,  however 
elegant  it  had  become,  architects  soon  tired.  The 
bonds  had  scarcely  been  drawn  tight  when  they 
burst.  Men  flung  away  the  perfection  almost  as 
soon  as  they  had  attained  it,  as  if  it  had  disap- 
pointed them.  A  general  debacle  followed.  The 
desire  for  freedom  and  novelty  revived,  and  soon 
ran  into  a  wild  license.  Invention  was  stimulated 
afresh,  but  the  material  with  which  it  had  worked 
was  exhausted ;  the  principle  which  had  guided  it 
was  gone.  As  men  gave  up  the  pursuit  of  a  defi- 
nite ideal,  the  clear  perception  which  the  pursuit 
had  nurtured  died  out.  They  began  to  handle 
with  recklessness  the  classical  forms  that  had 
hitherto  been  treated  with  almost  superstitious 
reverence,  and  which  under  such  handling  quickly 
lost  their  beauty.  First  came  the  misappropria- 
tion of  details,  the  careless  breaking  of  lines,  the 
degradation  of  ornament  which  mark  what  is 
called  the  Barocco  period ;  then  followed  all  the 
reckless  extravagance  of  the  Kococo.  The  revival 
of  architecture  had  had  the  familiar  career  of  as- 
piration, achievement,  and  decadence.  There  had 
been  the  delicate  fugitive  charm  of  the  early  Ee- 
naissance  in  the  fifteenth  century,  the  inspiring 
growth  and  mastery  of  what  has  been  called  the 


260  THE  RENAISSANCE 


Neo-Classic  in  the  first  half  of  the  sixteenth,  the 
frigid  and  elegant  formality  of  the  Grand  Style  in 
the  second  half,  the  picturesque  license  of  the  Ba- 
rocco  in  the  seventeenth,  and  at  the  end  the  reck- 
lessness of  the  Rococo. 

The  Renaissance  movement  was  an  effort  to  re- 
store what  was  believed  to  be  the  one  true  form  of 
architecture,  to  continue  the  interrupted  tradition 
of  the  greatest  age  of  the  world  ;  but  in  one  re- 
spect it  was  the  greatest  innovation  in  art  which 
the  world  had  seen — it  made  architecture  a  thing 
of  arbitrary  fashion  instead  of  a  natural  product 
of  the  people,  a  thing  whose  form,  progress,  and 
changes,  instead  of  being  a  natural  evolution,  were 
now  for  the  first  time  dictated  from  without  by  a 
company  of  self-elected  rulers,  of  amateurs  and 
dilettanti.  It  was  one  part,  and  not  the  leading 
part,  in  a  still  greater  movement,  set  on  foot  by 
literary  enthusiasts  but  seconded  by  the  instincts 
of  all  Italy,  to  change  the  aspect  of  civilization 
and  bring  back  the  antique  glory  of  the  pagan 
world.  Artificial  as  it  was,  it  could  hardl}^  have 
succeeded  as  it  did  in  a  living  and  practical  art 
like  architecture,  if  it  had  not  had  the  impulse  of 
the  world  behind  it. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  Renaissance  at  its 
best  was  superior  to  that  decaying  form  of  Gothic 
which  it  displaced,  as  it  was  superior  to  the  Ro- 
man which  it  reverently  imitated  ;  but  to  it  be- 


THE  RENAISSANCE 


261 


longs  the  reproach  that  it  first  diverted  architect- 
ure from  the  paths  of  orderly  evolution  that  it  had 
followed  since  building  began,  and  sent  it  wander- 
ing in  that  self-conscious  search  after  fashions 
which  it  has  followed  ever  since. 


SAINT  PETEK'S 


I 

The  Church  of  St.  Peter  is  called  the  Vatican 
Basilica,  though  it  is  not  a  basilica,  because  it  was 
so  ouce ;  that  is,  it  occupies  the  site  and  contains 
the  foundation  of  the  greatest  early  Christian  ba- 
silica. At  the  place  where  the  Vatican  hill  slopes 
southeasterly  to  the  bend  of  the  Tiber,  where  the 
lowland  was  crossed  by  the  ancient  Via  Trium- 
phalis,  lay  the  gardens  and  circus  of  Nero,  the  scene 
of  the  earliest  and  most  wanton  persecution  of  the 
Christians ;  and  here,  tradition  says,  at  the  end  of 
the  first  century  St.  Anacletus,  fourth  bishop  of 
Eome,  consecrated  by  St.  Peter's  own  hands, 
built  a  modest  oratory  over  the  tomb  where  the 
apostle  had  been  laid  after  his  martyrdom  on  the 
neighboring  Janiculan  Hill.  Two  centuries  later, 
we  are  told,  Constantine,  passing  the  spot  as  he 
entered  Kome  in  triumph  after  his  great  victory 
over  Maxentius,  in  the  first  campaign  that  was 
fought  under  the  banner  of  the  cross,  vowed  to 
himself  that  he  would  build  a  church  in  honor  of 

262 


SAINT  PETER'S 
Michelangelo's  Dome 


f 


SAINT  PETER'S 


263 


St.  Peter.  This  clmrcli,  built  in  324-30,  lasted 
nearly  twelve  centuries  —  the  most  venerated 
church  in  Christendom,  and  in  course  of  time  the 
most  sumptuous.  It  gradually  usurped  the  impor- 
tance that  originally  belonged  to  the  Pope's  own 
church,  the  basilica  of  St.  John  Lateran— which, 
also  founded  under  Constantine,  is  even  now 
called  the  Mother  and  Head  of  churches  —  and 
when  in  the  fourteenth  century  the  popes,  return- 
ing from  their  exile  in  Avignon,  transferred  them- 
selves from  the  palace  of  the  Lateran  to  that  of 
the  Vatican,  St.  Peter's  became  the  pope's  chapel. 

The  chronicles  of  the  Koman  Church  are  full  of 
accounts  of  its  splendors  and  its  vicissitudes,  its 
burnings,  its  plunderings  and  restorations.  Fort- 
unately, before  Constantine's  building  was  pulled 
down  to  make  room  for  the  present  church  careful 
plans  were  made  of  it,  so  that  we  know  what  it 
was  ;  and  representations  of  it  may  be  seen  in  the 
Stanze  of  the  Vatican  in  Kaphael's  paintings  of 
the  Coronation  of  Charlemagne,  which  took  place 
in  it,  and  of  the  Incendio  del  Borgo.  It  was  a 
great  five-aisled  basilica  with  projecting  tran- 
septs, nearly  four  hundred  feet  long  and  two  hun- 
dred and  seventy  in  extreme  width.  It  fronted 
the  east,  as  did  the  earliest  Christian  churches, 
and  as  the  present  church  does ;  its  western  apse 
covered  the  tomb  of  St.  Peter.  An  imposing  flight 
of  forty  steps  and  a  broad  platform,  stretching  all 


264 


SAINT  PETER'S 


across  the  front,  served  the  popes  as  a  reception 
place  for  the  potentates  who  on  great  occasions 
came  to  visit  the  church,  and  somewhere  in  front, 
as  now,  was  a  balcony  from  which  they  delivered 
their  blessings  to  an  assembled  multitude.  The 
plain  facade  was  the  entrance  not  of  the  church 
but  of  an  atrium,  open  and  lined  on  all  four  sides 
with  arcades,  enclosing  in  the  centre  a  bronze 
fountain  for  the  due  purification  of  worshippers. 
The  arcaded  galleries  were  decorated  with  painted 
walls,  and  the  side  next  the  church,  serving  as  a 
narthex,  contained  many  tombs  and  mosaic  deco- 
rations, while  on  the  opposite  wall  was  put  later 
the  famous  mosaic  by  Giotto  called  the  "Navi- 
cella,"  which  represented  Peter  walking  on  the  sea, 
and  now,  much  altered  by  restorations,  is  replaced 
in  the  present  narthex.  The  main  facade,  rising 
high  over  the  atrium,  and  crowned  by  a  low  gable, 
was  covered  with  splendid  mosaics  which  stretched 
in  bands  across  the  front.  There  were  as  now  five 
doors,  three  in  the  nave  and  two  in  the  aisles. 
The  nave  itself  was  enormous,  more  than  seventy 
feet  wide,  or  as  wide  as  the  present  nave  which 
follows  its  lines,  a  hundred  feet  high,  and  nearly 
three  hundred  long.  It  and  the  aisles  were  sepa- 
rated by  four  rows  each  of  twenty-three  marble 
columns,  plundered,  as  were  most  of  Constantine's 
building  decorations,  from  older  structures. 

Its  unique  characteristic  was  that  while  the  col- 


SAINT  PETER'S 


265 


umns  that  lined  the  nave  carried  a  horizontal  en- 
tablature, those  that  divided  the  aisles  carried 
arches.  This  is  one  of  the  evidences  that  although 
by  this  time  builders  had  succeeded  in  detaching 
the  arch  from  the  entablature,  and  setting  it  di- 
rectly on  the  capital  of  the  column,  they  still  con- 
sidered the  entablature  to  be  the  more  monumental 
crowning  of  the  column,  and  relegated  the  arch  to 
an  inferior  place.  The  same  feeling  appears  in 
Sta.  Maria  in  Trastevere,  built  only  about  fifteen 
years  later,  in  which  the  entablature  is  used,  but 
the  frieze  of  flat  arches  that  take  the  weight  of  the 
wall  off  the  architrave  has  been  revealed  by  the 
falling  off  of  the  plaster. 

If  it  looks  singular  that  this  should  be  done  a 
quarter  of  a  century  after  the  building  of  Diocle- 
tian's palace  at  Spalato,  in  which,  as  Mr.  Freeman 
has  insisted,  the  greatest  step  had  been  taken  in 
the  development  of  Romanesque  architecture  by 
the  emancipation  of  the  arch  from  its  subservience 
to  the  entablature,  we  may  remember  that  by  this 
time  Rome  had  become  the  home  of  conservatism, 
that  not  only  armies  and  emperors,  but  all  the  im- 
pulses of  progress  were  supplied  by  the  provinces, 
that  the  determining  argument  for  the  substitution 
of  the  arch  in  a  time  of  mechanical  decadence  was 
likely  to  be  its  ease  of  construction  and  cheapness, 
and  that  Spalato,  where  it  first  claimed  supremacy 
and  respect,  was  within  the  range  of  that  Greek 


2G0 


SAINT  PETER'S 


influence  wliicli  was  two  centuries  later  to  trans- 
form architecture  in  the  splendid  buildings  of 
Justinian  and  Theodoric,  and  which  would  tempt 
Constantine  away,  almost  as  soon  as  he  was  securely 
possessed  of  the  old  Rome,  to  found  a  new  Home 
on  the  shore  of  the  Bosphorus. 

Whatever  we  may  assume  to  have  been  the  ori- 
gin of  the  form  of  the  early  Christian  churches,  we 
must  believe  that  Constantine's  first  church  fixed 
the  type  for  centuries  to  come  of  those  in  Eome, 
except  for  burial  churches — for  which,  also  through 
his  example,  another  form  was  adopted — and  for 
some  time  to  come  elsewhere.  The  nave  and  aisles, 
the  transept  not  as  broad  as  the  nave,  the  great 
triumphal  arch  opening  from  the  nave  into  the 
transept,  the  western  apse,  transferred  to  the  east 
when  later  the  orientation  was  reversed  and  the 
churches  were  entered  from  the  west,  the  crypt 
under  the  apse  containing  the  body  of  the  patron 
saint,  the  long  arcades,  the  clerestory,  the  narthex, 
the  atrium,  all  were  there. 

It  does  not  appear  that  any  of  these  parts  were 
here  used  for  the  first  time,  or  perhaps  that  there 
was  any  other  novelty  in  the  new  basilica  than  its 
size,  its  completeness,  and  its  splendor.  Most  of 
its  characteristics  as  a  church  were  probably  com- 
mon in  the  East,  where  in  the  great  cities  the 
Christian  Church  was  prosperous  and  its  places  of 
worship  conspicuous  while  Rome  was  still,  from  an 


SAINT  PETER'S 


267 


ecclesiastical  point  of  view,  an  oppressed  provin- 
cial town.  It  probably  had  a  coffered  and  gilded 
ceiling  under  its  timbered  roof,  like  that  which 
Eusebius  mentions  in  his  description  of  the  later 
basilica  which  Constantine  built  over  the  Holy 
Sepulchre,  and  it  was,  at  first  or  afterward,  pro- 
fusely decorated  with  rich  mosaics,  both  within 
and  without. 

Perhaps  it  was  the  decadence  of  Latin  art  which, 
already  begun,  was  continued  and  accelerated  dur- 
ing the  dreary  centuries  that  followed  Constan- 
tine's  reign,  that  prevented  further  development  in 
the  form  of  the  Roman  churches  until  veneration 
for  those  of  Constantine  had  hardened  into  con- 
servatism. Perhaps  as  the  Church  of  Eome  grew 
stronger,  and  after  a  century  and  a  half  succeeded 
to  the  authority  of  the  Western  Empire,  it  clung 
loyally  to  the  form  of  its  first  houses  of  worship, 
the  witnesses  of  its  elevation.  Perhaps  the  ab- 
sence of  Teutonic  blood  and  of  Teutonic  rulers  like 
Theodoric  and  the  Lombard  kings  conspired  with 
the  aversion  to  change  which  belongs  to  ecclesias- 
tical government.  At  all  events,  the  progress  of 
church  architecture  in  the  early  Middle  Ages 
passed  Rome  by.  The  great  inventions  of  the 
Romanesque  period,  the  cruciform  plan,  the  length- 
ened choir,  the  compound  bay,  the  vaulted  nave, 
were  not  found  there.  The  type  of  Constantine's 
basilicas,  St.  Peter's,  St.  John  Lateran,  was  contin- 


268 


SAINT  PETER'S 


ued  witli  little  alteration  except  in  scale  from  tlie 
fourth  to  the  twelfth  century,  in  a  series  of 
churches  which  still  remain,  though  more  or  less 
altered.  In  several  of  them,  as  well  as  in  Sta. 
Maria  in  Trastevere  just  mentioned,  even  in  Sta. 
Prassede  so  late  as  the  end  of  the  fifth  century, 
and  in  others  which  many  authorities  date  later 
still,  we  again  find  a  reversion  to  the  entablature 
in  place  of  the  usual  arcades  of  the  nave. 

So  this  church  stood  till  the  middle  of  the  six- 
teenth century,  a  monument  to  the  conservatism 
of  Eome,  revered,  adorned,  wasted,  patched,  plun- 
dered, and  restored,  but  substantially  unchanged, 
except  for  the  clustering  about  it  of  many  parasit- 
ical buildings,  that  at  once  disfigured  it  and  served 
as  props  for  its  later  decrepitude.  It  must  have 
been  well  built,  for  its  situation  w^as  insecure.  It 
stood  on  the  alluvial  shore  of  the  Tiber,  on  ab- 
sorbent ground  penetrated  by  the  rising  and  fall- 
ing river-water.  This  unstable  substratum  was  a 
sore  trial  to  the  architects  of  the  modern  St. 
Peter's,  whose  efforts  to  make  their  buildings  se- 
cure were  again  and  again  baffled  by  it.  It  is  not 
practicable  or  very  important  to  unravel  the  struct- 
ural history  of  the  building.  We  do  not  know 
when  the  flat  ceiling  of  the  outer  aisles  was  re- 
placed by  a  barrel-vault,  nor  when  the  ceilings  of 
Constantine  were  stripped  from  the  roof  trusses. 
We  know  that  two  towers  were  added  to  the  front, 


SAINT  PETER'S 


209 


not  of  the  basilica,  but  of  the  atrium,  one  by 
Adrian  I.  in  772.  Two  round  chapels,  connecting 
with  each  other  and  with  the  south  transept,  were 
the  mausoleum  of  Honorius,  afterward  the  oratory 
of  St.  Petronilla,  and  the  chapel  of  St.  Andrew. 
South  of  the  atrium  was  a  small  cruciform  church 
with  two  apses  north  and  south,  called  the  Church 
of  the  Saviour,  and  devoted  to  the  use  and  the 
burial  of  pilgrims,  and  all  about  the  basilica  itself 
clung  a  thick  growth  of  smaller  buildings,  partly 
identifiable  and  partly  not,  which  appear  on  the 
published  plan.  As  for  the  legendary  furnishings 
with  which  the  church  was  resplendent,  the  won- 
der of  pilgrims  and  historians  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  they  have  left  no  trace.  The  spoils  of  the 
Jewish  Temple,  transferred  from  the  Temple  of 
Peace,  and  the  accumulated  riches  of  more  than 
a  century,  were  carried  off  to  Carthage  by  the 
Yandals,  under  Genseric,  in  the  middle  of  the 
fifth  century  ;  the  silver  doors  of  Honorius,  weigh- 
ing nearly  a  thousand  pounds,  were  the  spoil  of 
the  Saracens  in  the  middle  of  the  ninth.  It  is 
almost  incredible  that,  of  the  later  splendors  of 
the  church,  the  accumulation  of  the  secure  ages 
of  the  Pontificate  up  to  the  sixteenth  century, 
nothing  should  have  survived  its  removal ;  but 
this  seems  to  be  the  case.  Whether  the  cause  was 
the  eagerness  of  Julius  II.  to  raise  money  for  his 
pet  scheme  of  rebuilding,  or  the  disdain  of  the 


270 


SAINT  PETER'S 


artists  of  his  day  for  the  art  of  the  barbarians,  as 
they  called  their  predecessors,  or  what  else,  we 
do  not  know ;  but  the  magnificent  canopy  of  the 
confessional,  the  silver  candlesticks  and  altar  rails, 
the  golden  plates  that  lined  the  confessional  and 
its  silver  pavement,  the  bronze  tomb  with  which 
Constantino  had  provided  St.  Peter,  and  the 
golden  cross  that  surmounted  it,  the  silver-gilt 
ciborium,  a  ton  in  weight — all  these  seem  to  have 
utterly  disappeared.  Only  two  or  three  relics  of 
especial  sacredness  and  no  money  value  have  been 
preserved :  St.  Peter's  statue  and  his  chair,  only 
one  or  two  works  of  art  which  were  recent  enough 
to  secure  the  interest  of  the  artists  of  the  E-enais- 
sance :  the  Navicella  and  the  bronze  doors  of 
Filarete  and  Simon  the  Florentine. 


II 

The  middle  of  the  fifteenth  century  may  be 
taken  as  the  end  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  people 
who  like  to  mark  a  gradual  change  by  a  definite 
date  have  fixed  upon  the  taking  of  Constantinople 
by  the  Turks  in  1453  as  the  limit.  Then  at  least 
ended  the  Eastern  Empire,  which  had  been  in  a  way 
a  symbol  of  mediaeval  civilization,  as  the  Western 
Empire  had  been  the  symbol  of  Latin  civilization. 
Byzantine  art  and  the  last  Byzantine  emperor 
died  together.    Gothic  architecture  in  the  north 


SAINT  PETER'S 


271 


had,  it  is  true,  still  a  century  of  life  before  it,  more 
or  less ;  but  the  Renaissance  had  made  its  way  in 
Italy,  architecture  following  the  steps  of  letters 
and  of  sculpture.  In  Florence,  the  cradle  of  the 
Renaissance,  it  had  asserted  itself  with  a  decision 
and  consistency  that  it  was  slow  to  attain  in  other 
cities.  Brunelleschi  had  built  the  church  of  San 
Lorenzo,  the  front  of  the  Pitti  Palace,  had  added 
his  great  dome  to  the  cathedral,  and  had  died. 
Michelozzo  had  built  the  Riccardi  Palace  for  Cos- 
imo  dei  Medici,  and  the  church  of  San  Marco ; 
Brunelleschi's  great  successor,  Alberti,  was  at  the 
top  of  his  fame,  and  Bernardo  Rossellino  had 
made  himself  a  name. 

The  pope  at  this  time  was  Nicholas  Y.  Raised 
from  a  humble  position  by  mere  value  of  character 
and  acquirement,  upright,  generous,  progressive, 
scholarly,  a  patron  of  learning  and  enamored  of 
the  arts,  founder  of  the  Vatican  library,  he  came  to 
the  papal  chair  in  1447.  The  stormy  pontificate 
of  Eugene  IV.  had  ended ;  the  schism  which  he 
had  provoked  died  with  him,  and  was  buried  two 
years  later  at  the  abdication  of  the  antipope  Felix 
V.  For  the  first  time  in  many  years  the  Holy  See 
was  at  peace.  The  Renaissance  was  in  the  air ; 
but  no  building  of  importance  had  been  under- 
taken in  Rome  for  half  a  century,  and  the  new 
style  was  represented  there  only  in  the  restoration 
of  some  of  the  older  churches,  so  far  as  we  know. 


272 


SAINT  PETER'S 


Nicholas  was  a  great  builder,  and  Rossellino  was 
his  favorite  architect.  He  summoned  Rossellino 
from  Florence,  and  set  himself  seriously  to  embel- 
lish Rome.  He  undertook,  says  Vasari,  the  res- 
toration of  many  churches  and  especially  of  the 
principal  basilicas.  But  his  great  undertaking  was 
the  rebuilding  of  the  suburb  of  the  Vatican,  com- 
monly called  II  Borgo  Nuovo,  where  w^ere  his 
own  church  of  St.  Peter,  and  the  comparatively 
new  palace  which  the  popes  had  occupied  since 
the  return  from  Avignon.  For  this  Rossellino 
planned  a  great  scheme,  which  apparently  did 
not  differ  very  much  in  its  main  lines  from  that 
which  was  afterward  carried  out  either  by  design 
or  by  natural  growth.  Three  great  streets,  lined 
with  arcades  and  shops,  were  to  converge  upon  a 
great  open  square,  beyond  which  was  an  advanced 
portico,  next  an  atrium  with  a  fountain,  flanked  by 
colonnades,  then  another  portico,  and  then  the 
church.  The  palace  was  to  be  rebuilt  on  an  enor- 
mous scale,  enclosing  courts  and  gardens,  and  con- 
taining not  only  the  pope's  own  residence  and  that 
of  his  cardinals,  but  sumptuous  lodgings  for  visi- 
tors, churchly  and  royal,  with  chapels,  library, 
loggie,  and  even  a  theatre  for  their  amusement. 
The  nucleus  of  the  whole  project,  or  at  least  the 
part  that  was  first  undertaken,  was  the  design  for 
the  rebuilding  of  St.  Peter's.  For  this  Alberti 
was  called  into  council.    He  had  come  to  Rome, 


4 


SAINT  PETER'S 


273 


and  was  employed  by  Nicholas  to  restore  the  aque- 
duct by  which  the  Aqua  Virgo  had  been  brought 
into  Kome  by  Augustus,  and  designed  for  it  the 
fountain  of  Trevi,  afterward  altogether  remod- 
elled by  Salvi  in  1735. 

The  old  basilica,  we  are  told,  which  had  stood 
through  the  storms  and  sieges,  the  conflagrations 
and  plunderings,  the  pilgrimages  and  ceremonies  : 
of  eleven  hundred  years,  and  survived  the  reigns  ' 
and  accumulated  the  gifts  of  two  hundred  popes  i 
and  antipopes,  and  had  become  the  most  famous, 
the  richest,  and  the  most  venerated  church  in 
Christendom,  had  grown  decrepit,  and  needed  to 
be  rebuilt.  Whether  it  would  have  been  thought 
so  if  there  had  not  been  the  temptation  of  a  new 
fashion  we  cannot  know;  at  all  events  it  had 
strength  enough  to  last  another  half  century  with- 
out accident,  as  its  history  shows.  But  the  old 
conservatism  of  Rome  was  gone  or  disappearing ; 
a  series  of  pontijffs  had  begun  who  had  no  tender- 
ness for  the  traditions  or  the  relics  of  Christian 
art,  who  were  men  of  their  own  day  and  genera- 
tion, prepared  to  lead  the  way  in  throwing  over 
the  forms  of  mediae valism,  and  reverting  to  the 
classic  in  art,  literature,  and  even  in  thought. 
Nicholas  determined  to  build  a  new  St.  Peter's, 
which  should  be  greater  than  Constantine's  church, 
and  more  splendid  than  Solomon's  temple.  The 
year  of  Jubilee  1450  arrived,  and  the  work  was 


274 


SAINT  PETER'S 


begun.  The  new  church  was  to  follow  the  lines 
of  the  old,  to  preserve  the  same  orientation,  front- 
ing the  east,  but  to  be  longer  at  both  ends. 
The  sacred  martyrium,  or  confessio,  over  the 
grave  of  St.  Peter  was  to  be  undisturbed,  the  old 
church  remaining  as  long  as  possible  while  the 
new  one  was  built  up  about  it,  and  the  founda- 
tion was  laid  for  a  great  apse  behind  that  of  the 
basilica. 

The  tranquillity  in  which  Nicholas  began  his 
reign  did  not  last.  The  fall  of  Constantinople 
followed  in  three  years,  and  Nicholas,  stimulated 
by  the  appeal  of  ^neas  Sylvius,  who  afterward 
became  Pope  Pius  II.,  began  enthusiastically  to 
preach  a  new  Crusade.  The  last  years  of  his 
pontificate  were  disturbed  by  political  conflicts 
like  those  which  had  made  the  reign  of  his  prede- 
cessor turbulent,  and  which  were  to  occupy  the 
attention  and  revenues  of  his  successors  for  the 
next  fifty  years.  In  1455  he  died;  the  building 
of  St.  Peter's  was  discontinued,  and  for  the  rest  of 
the  century  the  walls  of  its  apse  stood  nakedly  a 
few  feet  above  the  ground,  while  the  old  basilica 
maintained  its  place  and  rank. 

Unfortunately  the  designs  of  the  architects 
have  not  been  preserved,  nor  is  there  anything 
to  indicate  what  share  Alberti  had  in  them.  Eos- 
sellino's  name  has  always  clung  to  the  beginnings 
of  the  new  St.  Peter's.    The  charge  of  the  build- 


SAINT  PETERS 


275 


ing  was  put  into  liis  hands.  He  did  an  immense 
amount  of  work  in  restoring  old  churches  both  in 
and  out  of  Kome,  chiefly  for  Nicholas,  but  his 
great  designs  died  with  his  patron.  He  was  an 
experienced  builder,  and  it  is  likely  that  Alberti 
was  joined  with  him  as  a  consulting  architect  on 
account  of  his  skill  in  the  new  fashion,  and  be- 
cause he  was  a  commanding  figure,  like  Nicholas 
himself,  among  the  men  of  literature  and  art  in 
Florence.  Vasari,  indeed,  says  more  than  once 
that  Alberti  would  have  succeeded  better  if  he  had 
had  more  practical  knowledge  of  building.  But 
he  was  one  of  the  brilliant  figures  of  the  Eenais- 
sance,  a  type  of  its  leaders.  He  was  a  noble  and 
a  churchman,  learned  and  courtly,  an  amateur  of 
all  the  arts,  a  writer,  an  enthusiastic  student  of 
ancient  art  and  literature,  and  of  all  the  learning 
of  his  day.  He  was  an  enthusiast  who  had  come 
to  architecture  from  without,  flushed  with  a  gospel 
which  he  was  eager  to  embody  in  it.  If  he  had 
not  the  genius  of  Brunelleschi,  he  had  at  least  a 
rare  talent,  a  keener  sense,  native  or  educated,  of 
proportion  in  mass  and  detail,  the  same  inde- 
fatigable diligence  in  studying  and  measuring  all 
the  remains  of  ancient  architecture  that  he  could 
get  access  to.  He  missed,  and  probably  could 
never  have  attained,  the  delightful  naivete  and 
unconstrained  elegance  that  we  have  recognized 
in  the  Eenaissance  of  northern  Italy.    But  he 


276 


SAINT  PETERS 


anticipated  tlie  stately  consistency  of  style  that 
belonged  to  the  next  century,  and  the  detail  of 
his  fa9ade  of  San  Francesco  at  Eimini  is  almost 
classic  enough  for  Yignola  or  Serlio.  At  the  time 
when  the  luxuriant  fa9ade  of  the  Certosa  was 
going  up  at  Pavia,  there  was  building  at  Mantua 
Alberti's  greatest  work,  the  church  of  San  Andrea, 
which,  nevertheless,  the  late  Mr.  Street  was  will- 
ing to  describe  as  a  "  hideous  classic  edifice  tacked 
on  to  a  most  beautiful  brick  campanile."  It  is  a 
church  that  might  have  been  designed  by  Palladio 
or  Alessi  a  century  later,  and  in  which,  as  we 
may  see  hereafter,  many  of  the  characteristics  of 
St.  Peter's  are  prefigured.  It  is  interesting  to 
watch  in  his  work  the  growing  idea  of  largeness  of 
scale,  of  the  predominance  and  sufficiency  of  a 
single  order,  which  Brunelleschi  and  Alberti  both 
recognized,  and  which  Alberti  embodied  in  San 
Andrea  as  fully  as  it  was  afterward  embodied  in 
St.  Peter's.  The  preference  for  the  entablature 
and  the  subordination  of  the  arch  Alberti  carried 
so  far  that  he  insists  in  his  book  that  arches  shall 
always  be  borne  on  pilasters  and  that  nothing  but 
an  entablature  shall  rest  on  a  column.  Accord- 
ingly he,  like  Brunelleschi,  followed  the  Eoman 
habit  of  inserting  under  the  arch,  when  it  bears 
on  a  column,  the  fragment  of  entablature  which  is 
so  ofi'ensive  to  many  modern  critics,  but  which 
made  its  way  among  later  architects  until  Milizia 


SAINT  PETER'S 


277 


could  say :  "It  would  be  ridiculous  nowadays  to 
urge  the  importance  of  this  principle,  which  is 
known  even  to  children " — a  saying  which  de- 
served the  attention  of  the  late  Mr.  Freeman. . 

How  far  the  first  design  of  St.  Peter's  was  in- 
fluenced by  Alberti's  knowledge,  which  was  doubt- 
less greater  than  Rossellino's,  or  by  his  principles, 
it  is  impossible  to  judge.  Whatever  might  have 
been  made  of  the  church  if  it  had  gone  on  under 
their  care,  it  was  probably  begun  in  the  undecided 
style  of  the  early  Renaissance,  for  it  was  begun 
before  Alberti's  style  had  matured.  The  facade  at 
Rimini,  which  first  shows  a  mastery  of  his  new 
style,  was  not  begun  till  ten  years  later  than  St. 
Peter's  ;  and  San  Andrea,  which  alone  shows  his 
fully  developed  power,  was  ten  years  later  still, 
and  finished  after  his  death.  Nevertheless,  the 
fact  remains  that  the  great  church  of  Rome  en- 
gaged the  service  of  three  men  who  were,  after 
Brunelleschi,  if  not  the  best  architects,  at  least  the 
greatest  leaders  of  the  Renaissance — Alberti,  Bra- 
mante,  and  Michelangelo — and  if  we  compare  it 
with  San  Andrea  we  shall  perhaps  conclude  that 
it  embodies,  however  they  may  have  got  there,  as 
many  characteristic  ideas  of  Alberti  as  of  the 
others.  But  when  Nicholas  died,  Alberti  went 
back  to  Florence,  where  he  was  already  building 
the  Rucellai  palace.  Rosselliuo  also  returned,  soon 
to  be  sunlmoned  by  Pius  II.,  the  second  great 


378 


SAINT  PETER'S 


humanist  pope,  to  build  up  the  new  city  of  Pien- 
za,  which  consumed  all  of  Pius's  architectural 
zeal.  Of  the  great  scheme  of  Nicholas  for  restor- 
ing the  glories  of  ancient  Rome  nothing  is  left  to 
us  but  the  idea,  which  was  the  inspiration  of  his 
successors.  Paul  II.  made  some  ineffectual  efforts 
to  carry  on  the  work.  Sixtus  IV.  was  too  busy 
with  buildings  of  his  own  devising  to  continue  it ; 
the  other  popes  of  the  fifteenth  century  had  their 
hands  full  of  political  cares  and  expenses;  the 
church  lay  neglected  for  fifty  years. 


Ill 

It  is  a  well-known  story  how  the  magnificent 
Julius  II.,  having  ordered  his  tomb  from  Michel- 
angelo, cast  about  for  a  place  to  put  it ;  and  how 
Michelangelo,  who  had  designed  the  tomb  on  a 
scale  that  outdid  everything  else  of  its  kind,  hit 
upon  the  unfinished  apse  of  Nicholas  V.  as  an 
adequate  shrine  for  it.  The  pope  took  fire  at  the 
suggestion,  and  calling  his  architects  into  council 
determined  to  take  up  the  project  of  Nicholas,  and 
rebuild  the  church  of  St.  Peter,  which  still  stood 
untouched.  He  had  about  him  the  two  Sangalli 
and  the  veteran,  Fra  Giocondo.  Bramante  had 
lately  come  to  Rome  with  the  same  impulse  that 
had  brought  Brunelleschi  and  Alberti,  in  the  ful- 
ness of  his  Lombard  fame,  and  had  already  distin- 


SAINT  PETER'S 


279 


guished  himself  there  by  some  lesser  works.  He 
soon  came  to  the  front  by  natural  selection — Ya- 
sari  says,  by  dint  of  his  own  skill  in  putting  him- 
self forward— and  the  undertaking  passed  into  his 
hands.  Pope  and  architect  attacked  the  work  to- 
gether with  an  impetuosity  that  was  common  to 
both,  Julius  raising  money  for  the  building  by  the 
sale  of  indulgences  right  and  left,  Bramante  mak- 
ing haste  to  begin  pulling  down  the  old  basilica, 
as  if  to  make  it  impossible  to  delay  the  new.  It 
had  been  the  cardinal  condition  from  the  very  be- 
ginning that  the  confessio  and  tomb  of  St.  Peter 
should  be  left  undisturbed,  and  that  the  high  altar 
of  the  new  church  as  of  the  old  should  be  set  over 
it.  Eossellino's  apse  had  been  built  to  conform 
to  this  idea,  and  Bramante's  plan  was  adapted  to 
it.  His  boast  has  become  familiar  that  he  would 
set  the  dome  of  the  Pantheon  upon  the  arches  of 
the  Temple  of  Peace,  of  the  building,  that  is, 
which  we  now  know  as  the  Basilica  of  Maxentius 
or  Constantine.  This  was  not  merely  a  figurative 
boast,  but  a  literal  intention,  as  its  issue  proves ; 
for  the  lines  of  the  nave  of  St.  Peter's  are  set  on 
those  of  the  original  basilican  church  of  Constan- 
tine, which  were  also,  as  we  have  seen,  the  lines 
of  Eossellino's.  By  a  notable  coincidence  that 
church  and  the  basilica  of  Maxentius  have  the 
same  width  of  nave,  so  that  the  arches  which  carry 
St.  Peter's  dome  really  match  those  of  Bramante's 


280 


SAINT  PETER'S 


"  Temple  of  Peace."  Moreover,  the  dome  of  the 
Pantheon  spans  a  hundred  and  forty-three  feet, 
and  St.  Peter's  one  hundred  and  forty,  so  that  as 
nearly  as  practicable  dimensions  go  the  dome  of 
the  Pantheon  really  rests  on  the  arches  of  the 
Temple  of  Peace.  The  actual  dome,  it  is  true,  is 
different  enough  from  that  of  the  Pantheon,  but 
that  it  was  not  so  in  Bramante's  intentions  is  clear 
from  all  the  records  of  them  that  we  possess. 
These  show  clearly  that  the  soaring  outline  of  the 
dome  as  it  stands  is  entirely  apart  from  Braman- 
te's conception,  and  that  he  had  intended  a  low 
composition  of  much  more  classical  outline,  whose 
principal  mass  was  a  dome  not  only  hemispherical 
like  that  of  the  Pantheon,  but  somewhat  masked 
like  that  by  a  series  of  steps  or  benches  which  en- 
circles its  base,  partially  obscuring  its  outline  and 
diminishing  its  apparent  height.  This  shape  of 
dome,  indeed,  as  the  work  of  many  architects 
shows,  from  the  Pantheon  itself  and  Sta.  Sofia 
down  to  the  old  Capitol  at  Washington  and  the 
buildings  of  the  Chicago  Fair,  is  that  which  best 
accords  with  the  low  massing  and  horizontal  lines 
of  classic  architecture.  So  that  if  we  would  truly 
divine  the  conception  which  first  inspired  Bra- 
mante  and  to  which  he  held  faithfully,  we  must  go 
back  to  that  lightly  regarded  phrase  of  his,  and 
take  it  not  fancifully  but  seriously. 

The  controlling  motive  of  Bramante's  whole  de-- 


SAINT  PETERS 


281 


sign  was  his  colossal  dome — the  dome  of  the  Pan- 
theon, but  lifted  off  from  its  massive  ring- wall  that 
needed  no  buttressing,  and  balanced  high  as  the 
very  crown  of  the  Pantheon  on  the  tops  of  the 
great  arches  of  the  classic  basilica.  It  was  not  to 
be  supported  on  upright  walls  like  the  great  dome 
of  Florence,  nor  standing  directly  on  its  four  piers, 
but  overhanging  by  nearly  thirty  feet  at  the  angles, 
and  poised  on  pendentives  like  that  of  Sta.  Sofia, 
yet  it  was  to  be  half  as  wide  again  as  Sta.  Sofia's. 
To  prepare  for  this  dome  was  Bramante's  chief 
preoccupation.  He  set  to  work  in  eager  haste. 
The  rear  of  the  old  basilica  was  pulled  down,  its 
columns,  marbles,  even  tombs  of  buried  dignitaries, 
were  hurriedly  worked  into  the  foundations  of  the 
four  great  piers  set  about  the  tomb  of  St.  Peter, 
over  which  the  dome  was  to  centre.  Bramante  was 
sixty-two  years  old  when  the  corner-stone  was  laid 
in  1506.  He  could  not  hope  to  see  the  end  of  his 
work,  and,  as  if  to  make  sure  that  the  essential 
parts  of  his  design  should  be  unalterably  fixed  in 
his  lifetime,  he  hurried  the  piers  so  impetuously 
that  by  the  time  the  arches  were  laid  on  them  they 
already  showed  signs  of  being  inadequately  built. 
In  1513  Julius  died,  and  Bramante's  death  followed 
in  a  few  months,  but  he  had  built  his  piers  and 
turned  his  great  arches :  the  scale  of  the  church 
was  fixed — the  width  of  the  nave  and  transepts,  the 
span  of  the  dome — and  has  never  been  departed 


283 


SAINT  PETER'S 


from.  Towers  they  are,  these  great  piers  nearly 
seventy  feet  square  and  a  hundred  feet  high  to  the 
springing  of  tiie  arches. 

On  his  death-bed  Bramante  recommended  Ea- 
phael,  his  protege  and  pupil,  to  Leo  X.,  who  had 
succeeded  Julius,  and  Raphael  was  appointed  to 
continue  the  work.  The  insecurity  of  Bramante's 
masonry,  which  developed  as  soon  as  the  building 
passed  into  other  hands  than  his,  seems  to  have 
been  good  fortune  disguised,  for  whereas  Eaphael 
and  his  successor  Peruzzi  found  enough  to  do 
during  their  brief  charge  of  the  building  in  con- 
solidating the  work  which  was  already  done,  the 
younger  Antonio  Sangallo,  who  followed  them,  set 
seriously  to  work  to  remodel  the  whole  design  for 
Paul  III.  Bramante's  plans,  it  would  appear,  had 
been  either  lost  or  obscured,  and  though  Eaphael 
and  Peruzzi  had  each  prepared  tentative  designs, 
they  had  not  advanced  the  building  far  enough  to 
make  important  modifications.  Paul  required  that 
the  project  which  he  wished  to  take  up  with  energy 
should  be  put  once  for  all  into  definite  shape,  and 
Sangallo  prepared  an  elaborate  model  thirty  feet 
long,  which  cost  five  thousand  golden  crowns  and 
is  still  preserved.  The  colossal  order  with  which 
Bramante  had  begun  to  decorate  his  interior  no- 
body had  ventured  to  displace,  but  Sangallo's  de- 
sign clothed  the  exterior  with  two  stories  of  small 
orders  of  half  the  scale  and  greatly  complicated  the 


SAINT  PETER'S 


283 


plan,  so  that  Michelangelo,  calling  the  design  a 
Gothic  one,  complained  that  Sangallo  had  frittered 
away  the  architecture,  and  cut  up  the  interior  into 
dens  fit  for  counterfeiters.  Paul  nevertheless  ac- 
cepted the  model,  and  Sangallo  prepared  for  carry- 
ing it  out  by  once  more  strengthening  Bramante's 
piers,  filling  up  the  great  niches  which  Bramante 
had  left  on  their  cardinal  sides,  and  also  raising  the 
floor  of  the  church.  Fortunately  these  prelimina- 
ries consumed  the  whole  of  Sangallo's  administra- 
tion, and  when  he  died,  in  1546,  he  had  done 
nothing  of  importance  in  changing  the  arrangement 
of  the  building.  Bramante's  gigantic  piers  with 
their  lofty  pilasters  and  huge  arches,  and  the  walls 
of  his  apse  behind  them,  still  towered  over  the 
mutilated  nave  of  the  old  basilica,  consolidated 
by  the  work  of  three  successors,  but  practically 
unchanged,  as  we  see  by  various  contemporary 
sketches  which  are  still  preserved.  Michelangelo, 
appointed  in  1547  to  succeed  Sangallo,  immediately 
threw  aside  all  his  projects  of  amendment,  saying, 
as  I  have  quoted  in  another  essay,  that  every  step 
away  from  Bramante's  intention  was  a  step  in  the 
wrong  direction.  Paul  gave  him  a  free  hand.  He 
restored  the  design  of  Bramante  in  all  its  main 
features,  and  before  his  death,  seventeen  years 
later,  he  had  given  to  the  work  such  definite  shape 
that  his  plan  was  not  departed  from  till  the  addition 
of  Maderno's  lengthened  nave  in  the  next  century. 


284 


SAINT  PETEWS 


IV 

There  has  been  much  discussion  among  students 
as  to  the  share  of  the  various  architects  of  St. 
Peter's  in  the  design  of  the  church  as  it  stands, 
and  especially  as  to  Bramante's  intentions.  Becent 
researches  of  Baron  von  Geymiiller  have  done 
much  to  clear  up  the  question.  The  drawings 
which  he  has  unearthed,  especially  one  large  plan, 
which  seems  clearly  to  have  been  Bramante's, 
appear  to  set  forth  his  purpose  convincingly. 
"Whether  or  not  the  relations  between  the  dome  of 
the  Pantheon  and  the  arches  of  Maxentius  sug- 
gested to  him  the  proportions  of  this  plan,  it  is 
clear  that  adjustment  to  those  relations  gave  him 
the  central  space,  which  is  the  dominant  note  of 
the  whole.  Evidently  the  great  dome  filled  the 
minds  of  all  popes  and  architects  who  had  to  do 
with  the  building  of  the  church,  as  it  does  the 
minds  of  all  travellers  who  visit  it  to-day.  The 
grand  effect  of  the  expanding  centre  under  Bru- 
nelleschi's  dome  at  Florence  could  not  fail  to  con- 
vince all  architects  of  that  time.  To  produce  an 
equivalent  effect  in  conjunction  with  Constantine's 
great  nave  required  a  dome  as  large  as  this.  The 
central  expansion  dictated  the  shape  of  the  great 
piers,  which  are  essentially  the  same  in  plan  as 
those  at  Florence.    Their  splayed  faces,  fronting 


SAINT  PETER'S 


285 


tlie  centre,  give  this  expansion  and  are  the  key 
of  the  combination.  They  not  only  prepare  for 
the  tremendous  size  of  the  dome,  but  they  give 
breadth  and  solidity  to  the  pendentives  that  are 
set  on  them,  and  relieve  the  arches  of  much  of  the 
weight,  transferring  it  directly  to  the  piers.  This 
device,  which  belongs  to  Bramante,  gives  advan- 
tage to  St.  Peter's  dome  over  most  others  almost  as 
much  as  its  dimensions.  Alberti  had,  first  of  all, 
planned  to  set  his  dome  on  pendentives  in  San 
Andrea  of  Mantua,  but  his  piers  were  square.  He 
had  designed  the  barrel- vaulted  nave  and  the 
high  order  of  coupled  Corinthian  pilasters  which 
line  it,  though  the  dome  was  added  two  centuries 
later  than  St.  Peter's.  The  church  must  have 
been  familiar  to  Bramante,  and  the  grandeur  of 
this  treatment  could  not  escape  him.  His  draw- 
ings seem  to  show  that  the  idea  of  the  great  order 
was  as  tenaciously  held  from  the  beginning  as  that 
of  the  dome  itself.  Their  outline  was  planted  in 
his  piers ;  they  show  in  contemporary  sketches 
as  they  stood  waiting  from  Bramante's  time  to 
Michelangelo's.  In  truth  the  plans  of  those  piers 
prefigured  the  ordinance  of  the  interior  as  clearly 
as  do  the  piers  of  a  Gothic  cathedral.  The  size, 
the  height,  and  the  disposition  of  the  Corinthian 
order,  the  width  and  height  of  the  arms  of  the 
church,  the  span  and  division  of  the  vaulting,  the 
dimensions  and  poising  of  the  dome,  all  these 


286 


SAINT  rETER'S 


were  written  in  the  plans  of  Bramante's  piers,  and 
his  successors  did  not  depart  from  them.  There 
is  an  impression  that  the  piers  were  greatly  en- 
larged after  Bramante's  death,  but  Mr.  von  Gey- 
miiller's  researches  prove  pretty  conclusively  that 
though  they  were  consolidated  by  more  or  less  re- 
building and  by  Sangallo's  filling  up  of  niches  in 
them,  their  outline  and  the  arrangement  of  the 
order  upon  them  was  never  varied.  The  varia- 
tions of  other  architects  were  limited  to  the  out- 
lying parts  of  the  plan  and  to  the  features  of  the 
exterior.  To  Bramante  we  owe  the  things  which 
give  the  church  its  unique  character,  its  enormous 
scale,  its  imposing  arrangement,  the  dignity  of  its 
effect.  His  are  the  commanding  dome  and  colon- 
naded drum,  though  their  form  is  changed,  the 
triapsal  plan,  the  stupendous  vaults,  the  colossal 
orders  without  and  within. 

The  intermediate  architects  had  proposed  many 
changes  in  plan  fluctuating  between  a  Greek  cross, 
a  Latin  cross,  and  a  rectangle.  Michelangelo  in- 
sisted on  returning  to  Bramante's  idea  of  a  Greek 
cross  with  three  round  ends ;  it  was  evidently 
plain  to  him  that  the  effect  of  the  dome  would  be 
lost  if  a  long  nave  were  put  in  front  of  it.  He  re- 
jected Sangallo's  two  stories  of  exterior  orders, 
though  in  so  doing  he  had  to  include  two  stories 
of  windows,  and  in  some  places  four,  under  the 
one  order  of  pilasters  to  which  he  reverted. 


SAINT  PETER'S 


287 


Michelangelo,  like  Alberti,  never  was  a  well- 
trained,  well-equipped  architect.  He  was  a  painter, 
a  sculptor,  a  designer,  a  constructor,  and  before 
all  things  a  genius.  In  architecture  his  strength 
lay,  like  Alberti's,  in  his  power  of  conception  and 
composition ;  his  designs  for  detail  were  those  of 
a  painter,  and  were  sometimes  atrocious.  In  spite 
of  his  scorn  for  the  Gothic  character  of  Sangallo's 
design,  and  in  spite  of  his  recognizing  that  the 
use  of  the  single  order  was  the  logical  classic 
treatment,  he  was  apparently  less  classic  and  more 
mediaeval  in  feeling  than  he  knew.  If  he  had 
lived  in  the  first  half  of  this  century  he  would 
probably  have  led  the  romantic  school.  In  the 
carrying  out  of  St.  Peter's  he  departed  from  the 
severity  of  the  original  design.  "We  must  think 
that  he  bettered  it  in  doing  so,  for  the  scheme  in 
itself  was  not  adapted  to  so  severe  an  execution  as 
Bram ante's  projects  imply.  The  pure  architect- 
ure of  the  orders  in  its  classic  shape  does  not  well 
bear  being  sketched  to  such  an  enormous  scale. 
Michelangelo  held  to  the  first  idea  of  the  great 
dome  surrounded  by  four  small  ones,  but  he  added 
to  the  upper  part  of  the  composition  the  move- 
ment which  his  arrangement  of  the  outside  order 
denied  to  the  lower,  by  lifting  the  central  dome 
higher  and  giving  it  the  soaring  aspect  which 
Brunelleschi  had  given  to  the  dome  at  Florence, 
but  which  Bramante  with  the  Pantheon  in  mind 


288 


SAINT  PETER'S 


had  omitted  from  his  design.  That  he  took  a  les- 
son from  Brunelleschi  we  may  well  believe  if  we 
can  trust  the  familiar  tradition  which  makes  him 
say :  *'  Better  than  he  I  cannot  build,  like  him  I 
will  not."  The  design  of  his  dome  was  his  great- 
est achievement,  perhaps  the  greatest  achieve- 
ment of  all  the  Eenaissance.  While  he  kept  the 
hemispherical  shape,  he  displayed  it  by  stripping 
off  the  benches  with  which  in  imitation  of  the 
Pantheon  Bramante  had  disguised  its  haunches ; 
he  raised  it  on  an  attic,  and  more  important  still, 
broke  up  the  importunate  smoothness  of  Bra- 
mante's  encircling  colonnade,  grouping  the  col- 
umns by  twos  and  combining  them  into  buttresses, 
between  which  the  drum  was  displayed,  the  lines 
of  its  order  continued  downward,  and  the  contour 
of  the  dome  seen  or  felt  to  unite  with  the  build- 
ing below.  The  vertical  lines,  carried  upward  in 
bold  ribs  that  divide  the  surface  of  the  dome,  he 
united  and  grouped  again  in  the  crowning  lantern, 
which  breaks  high  in  the  air  as  the  sea  breaks  in 
spray  over  a  half-sunken  rock.  It  is  true  that  the 
final  touch  of  grace  was  added  by  his  successors, 
when  they  modified  the  outline  of  the  dome  and 
made  it  oval  instead  of  hemispherical ;  the  late 
M.  Garnier  went  so  far  as  to  say  that  this  im- 
proved outline  was  the  one  fine  thing  in  the 
whole  church,  but  this  is  going  too  far.  If  the 
conception  of  the  domed  church  does  not  belong 


SAINT  PETER'S 


289 


to  Michelangelo,  the  whole  design  of  the  dome  is 
his,  the  displaying  of  its  form,  the  proportion  of 
the  drum,  the  attic,  the  buttressing,  the  ribbing, 
and  the  lantern.  It  is  praise  enough  for  his  suc- 
cessors to  say  that  they  added  the  last  touch  of 
nobility  to  what  was  already  so  noble.^ 

V 

But  what  shall  we  say  to  this  buttressing,  this  rib- 
bing, this  upward  spring,  the  leading  up  of  vertical 
lines  that  end  in  a  mass  of  pinnacles  ?  The  details 
are  classic,  the  origin  of  the  dome  is  classic,  but 
how  much  of  the  classic  is  there  in  the  composi- 
tion or  in  the  feeling  in  which  it  is  wrought  out  ? 
The  detail  is  harmoniously  combined,  the  composi- 
tion has  the  balance  and  stateliness  of  classic  art ; 
it  has  also  the  upward  movement,  the  continuity 
of  vertical  lines,  of  Gothic.  It  would  be  hard  to 
say  that  Sangallo's  broken  composition  and  re- 
duplicated orders  had  more  of  that  spirit  in  them 
than  this.  All  pettiness  is  not  Gothic  nor  all 
stateliness  classic;  so  much  difference  it  makes 
whose  ox  is  gored. 

•  St.  Peter's  has  been  cited  as  the  first  church  in  which  a  dome 
on  pendentives  was  set  upon  a  drum  ;  but  the  smaller  church  of 
San  Agostino  in  Rome,  in  which  this  treatment  was  used,  was  a 
century  older  than  St.  Peter's,  being  built  near  the  end  of  the 
fifteenth  century.  Its  dome,  which  was  taken  down  a  hundred 
years  ago  and  replaced  without  its  drum,  has  been  forgotten  ; 
but  it  must  have  been  familiar  to  all  the  architects  of  St.  Peter  s. 


290 


SAINT  PETER'S 


Let  US  consider  the  construction  of  the  dome. 
Michelangelo  was  born  with  the  constructive  in- 
stinct of  a  mediaeval  builder,  and  the  construction 
of  the  dome  is  his  alone.  The  great  cupola  con- 
sists of  four  parts — the  ring,  which  rests  upon 
the  great  arches  and  pendentives,  appearing  out- 
side as  a  stylobate  ;  the  drum,  divided  into  six- 
teen bays  by  the  buttresses  with  windows  be- 
tween ;  the  dome  itself,  with  its  supporting  attic  ; 
and  the  lantern.  The  drum  and  the  attic  above 
are  nearly  seventy  feet  of  masonry.  The  dome 
consists  of  two  shells.  They  unite  for  some  thirty 
feet  above  the  attic  in  a  solid  zone,  above  which 
they  separate,  the  outer  shell  having  a  steeper  rise 
than  the  inner,  till  they  are  about  ten  feet  apart. 
The  two  shells  abut  at  the  crown  upon  a  ring 
which  again  unites  them,  and  on  which  the  lan- 
tern rests.  They  are  furthermore  united  by  six- 
teen great  meridian  arcs  or  vertical  webs,  as  it 
were,  showing  outside  in  the  ribs  of  the  dome,  one 
over  each  buttress.  The  outside  of  the  inner  shell 
is  notched  in  courses,  up  which  the  visitor  may 
climb,  as  up  the  Great  Pyramid  of  Egypt,  to  the 
base  of  the  lantern.  This  is  itself  a  considerable 
structure,  being  forty  feet  across  and  sixty-five 
high  without  its  finial,  built  of  wrought  stone,  sur- 
rounded by  sixteen  columnar  buttresses  which 
repeat  those  about  the  drum,  pinnacled  and  sur- 
mounted by  a  conoidal  roof  or  low  spire.  Here 


Xi 

W  ^ 

(-1  <n 

W  'o 


SAINT  PETER'S 


291 


then  is  an  enormous  accumulated  weight,  to  be 
poised  on  the  tops  of  arches  and  pendentives  one 
hundred  and  fifty  feet  above  the  pavement,  and 
built  up  four  hundred  and  fifty  feet  into  the  air. 

The  meridian  arcs  or  webs  may  be  said  to  pene- 
trate the  two  shells,  projecting  above  and  below  in 
visible  raised  ribs.  They  are  the  principal  support- 
ing members  of  the  dome,  and  have  the  shape  and 
function  of  flying  buttresses,  transmitting  the 
weight  of  the  lantern  and  thrust  of  the  structure 
directly  to  the  buttresses  below  on  which  they 
rest,  while  the  surfaces  of  the  dome  may  be  re- 
garded as  a  series  of  vaulting  cells,  filling  the 
spaces  between  them.  They  are  indeed  the  real 
skeleton  of  the  construction,  which  is  therefore 
Gothic  and  not  classic,  and  consists  of  a  lantern 
supported  on  sixteen  huge  flying  buttresses  that 
are  connected  and  steadied  by  the  shells  of  the 
dome.  It  is,  in  fact,  an  instance  on  an  enormous 
scale  of  the  kind  of  structure  of  which  the  crowns 
that  sometimes  surmount  Scotch  towers  are  a  tj^pe, 
and  of  which  the  belfry  of  St.  Nicholas  at  New- 
castle upon  Tyne  is  a  famous  example,  the  dis- 
tinction being  one  of  architectural  treatment.  In 
that  at  Newcastle  the  buttresses  are  displayed  as 
conspicuously  as  possible ;  at  Rome  the  chief  im- 
portance is  given  to  the  domical  shell  with  which 
they  are  overlaid.  The  principle  of  the  construc- 
tion is  not  at  all  that  of  the  classic  dome,  or  the 


292 


SAINT  PETER'S 


Pantheon,  in  whicli  the  pressure  is  uniformly 
transmitted  and  distributed  over  the  ring  at  its 
base ;  but  truly  that  of  the  Gothic  vault,  where 
the  stress  is  collected  in  ribs,  and  concentrated 
into  a  few  points  where  it  is  met  by  buttressing. 
In  this  respect  it  is  more  mediaeval  than  Brunei- 
leschi's  dome,  where  the  shell  supports  the  lan- 
tern, and  v/here  the  ribs,  although  they  are  more 
conspicuous  on  the  exterior,  are  too  few  and  too 
slight  for  such  an  office. 

Eoman  construction  in  truth  gives  no  means 
for  solving  such  a  problem  as  Michelangelo's. 
The  Roman  domes,  resting  on  solid  walls,  were 
stayed  by  mere  weight  of  unbroken  masonry ;  the 
pendentive  domes  of  the  Bj^zantine,  which  opened 
the  way  for  those  of  the  Renaissance,  depended 
on  the  abutting  of  dome  against  dome  as  in  Sta. 
Sofia,  or  else  were  on  too  small  a  scale  to  be  diffi- 
cult to  build.  Brunelleschi's  had  the  continuous 
support  of  a  massive  ring-wall.  For  the  gigantic 
project  of  Michelangelo  there  was  no  precedent 
and  no  guiding  experience  but  in  the  methods 
which  the  mediaeval  builders  had  laboriously 
worked  out.  Even  his  self-assured  boldness  did 
not  confront  its  difficulties  empirically  in  new 
ways ;  it  was  enough  that  he  bent  the  old  meth- 
ods of  construction  to  a  new  problem  and  to  diffi- 
culties incomparably  greater  than  they  had  ever 
before  provided  for. 


SAINT  FETER'S 


293 


Michelangelo  suppressed  the  clerestory  that  is 
suggested  in  Bramante's  designs,  and  bringing  up 
the  aisles  and  lateral  chapels  to  the  level  of  the 
rest,  made  his  great  outside  order  of  Corinthian 
pilasters  cover  and  dissimulate  all  the  internal 
plan  of  the  building.  He  added  an  attic  to  it 
of  which  the  original  design  gave  no  hint.  Be- 
low the  unbroken  level  of  the  eaves  his  order  is 
everything;  the  niches  and  windows  which  are 
set  in  stories  between  the  pilasters  jar  with  its 
classic  intention,  but  do  not  shake  its  predom- 
inance ;  even  the  long  curves  of  the  apses  can- 
not subdue  it.  So  far  it  enforces  the  classic 
effect,  yet  the  deep  shadows  of  the  classic  portico 
or  arcade  are  missed,  and  the  intrusive  wall  is 
a  poor  substitute  for  them.  His  fa9ade,  which 
might  have  redeemed  this  defect,  was  never  exe- 
cuted. Of  the  four  small  domes  with  which  he 
intended  to  surround  the  great  dome  only  two 
were  built  by  his  pupil  and  successor  Yignola; 
the  lack  of  the  others  robs  the  design  of  a  part  of 
its  animation  and  harmony.  I  have  said  that 
Michelangelo  lacked  the  skill  of  a  trained  archi- 
tect, that  he  was  rather  a  painter  or  a  sculptor. 
The  designing  of  detail  was  beyond  or  beneath 
his  powers,  and  that  of  St.  Peter's  does  not  be- 
lie this  statement.  But  the  great  cupola  is  a 
magnificent  conception;  if  the  world  could  show 
no  other  architectural  work  of  his  than  this, 


294 


SAINT  PETER'S 


'  it  must  still  account  him  one  of  its  greatest  arclii- 
,  tects. 

At  his  death  Michelangelo  left  the  drum  fin- 
ished, and  happily  had  provided  such  a  model  for 
the  dome  itself  and  the  lantern  that  there  was 
no  room  for  a  change  in  the  design.  The  only 
departure  from  his  intention  was  when  Sixtus  V., 
after  the  building  had  languished  for  twelve  years 
from  the  death  of  Yignola,  resumed  work  on  it 
and  appointed  Delia  Porta  and  Fontana  to  carry 
it  on.  They  obtained  Sixtus's  permission  to 
change  the  curve  of  the  dome,  which  had  been  a 
semicircle,  and  gave  it  the  unapproachable  out- 
line that  distinguished  it  from  all  other  domes. 
The  credit  of  this  change  has  been  usually  given 
to  Delia  Porta.  I  have  suggested  in  the  essay  on 
Sta.  Maria  Maggiore  a  reason  for  surmising  that 
it  really  belonged  to  Fontana.  The  two  architects 
so  pressed  the  work  that  the  laying  of  the  finish- 
ing stone  of  the  ring  which  carries  the  lantern 
could  be  celebrated  by  Sixtus  in  1590,  with  a  sol- 
emn mass  and  the  firing  of  cannon.  The  lantern 
was  added  under  Clement  YIII.,  and  the  great 
work  of  Bramante  and  Michelangelo  was  com- 
plete but  for  the  fa9ade,  a  century  after  Bra- 
mante had  begun  it.  From  this  time  every 
builder  who  set  his  hand  to  it  found  something 
to  do  to  injure  or  degrade  it.  The  architecture  of 
the  Eenaissance  had  passed  its  climax,  and  the 


SAINT  PETER'S 


295 


movement  of  tlie  Barocco  had  set  in.  Michel- 
angelo himself  had  perhaps  given  the  first  im- 
pulse to  it  in  the  wilful  exaggeration  of  his  detail. 
The  two  men  to  whom  it  fell  to  finish  St.  Peter's, 
Delia  Porta  and  Maderno,  were  both  chiefly  dec- 
orators, and,  working  in  stucco,  were  facile  in  all 
sorts  of  architectural  license.  Paul  V.  undertook 
to  add  the  facade,  and  finding  that  Michelangelo, 
intent  on  building  a  monument,  had  neglected  to 
provide  for  all  wants  of  the  services,  he  decided 
to  lengthen  the  church,  and  called  a  competition 
for  a  new  design.  In  the  consultations  that 
followed,  it  was  agreed  that  St.  Peter's  should 
be  lengthened,  and  the  whole  area  which  had 
been  consecrated  by  the  occupation  of  Constan- 
tine's  basilica  must  be  included  in  it.  This  at 
once  did  away  with  the  characteristics  of  the 
original  plan  thus  far  maintained,  changing  it 
from  a  Greek  cross  to  a  Latin.  Maderno  was 
chosen  as  the  architect  and  set  to  lengthen  the 
church,  adding  two  or  three  hundred  feet  to  it, 
prefacing  it  with  the  great  narthex,  which  crosses 
the  front,  in  itself  a  magnificent  and  serviceable 
vestibule  to  such  a  church,  and  facing  it  with  the 
commonplace  fagade  which  it  now  wears.  His  in- 
tention was  to  add  two  flanking  towers  at  the  end 
of  this  front,  but  they  were  never  built.  Maderno 
was  not  an  architect,  and  the  Nemesis  that  waits 
on  bad  builders  dogged  his  steps.    The  ground 


296 


SAINT  PETER'S 


on  wliicli  the  church  stands  is  treacherous  ;  great 
care  was  necessary  to  lay  secure  foundations. 
Mademo  hurried  this  work  with  the  eagerness  with 
which  every  architect  attacked  St.  Peter's.  He 
laid  his  foundations  insecurely,  and  even  got  them 
out  of  line ;  his  effort  to  correct  this  blunder  in  the 
superstructure  gave  the  walls  an  uneven  bearing 
which  in  the  end  worked  disaster.  He  did  not 
dare  build  on  them  the  towers  which  he  had  pro- 
posed, but  he  finished  his  facade,  and  added  his 
name  to  those  of  his  great  predecessors  as  one  of 
the  three  men  to  whom  St.  Peter's  owes  its  shape. 
After  him  came  Bernini,  a  man  of  higher  talent, 
but  of  a  decadent  style.  Under  Urban  YIII.  he 
contributed  various  decorations  to  the  interior, 
particularly  the  baldacchino  which  disfigures  the 
high  altar.  In  an  evil  day  he  undertook  to  supply 
Mademo's  missing  towers.  He  had  added  two 
stories  of  that  at  the  northern  end  of  the  facade, 
when  Mademo's  foundation  began  to  yield,  and 
the  lower  walls  split  hopelessly.  Bernini's  rivals 
attacked  him  for  the  fault  of  his  predecessor ;  he 
was  displaced,  and  Borromini,  who  replaced  him, 
was  let  loose  upon  the  interior  of  .the  church ;  but 
the  tower  was  pulled  down  and  that  disfigurement 
of  the  injured  church  was  evaded.  Later  he  was 
reappointed  under  Alexander  VII.,  who  had  taken 
up  the  idea  of  remodelling  the  architectui^  of  the 
great  squai-e  in  front  of  the  church  and  bringing  it 


SAINT  PETER'S 


297 


into  accord  with  its  front.  For  him  Bernini  built 
the  oval  colonnades  which  encompass  the  Piazza 
San  Pietro  with  their  tremendous  arms.  These 
great  swinging  galleries,  crowded  with  columns, 
convert  the  whole  square  into  a  forecourt  for  the 
church  and  reconcile  the  building  with  its  sur- 
roundings as  perhaps  nothing  else  could.  Yet 
their  severity,  only  half  relieved  by  the  guard  of 
undisciplined  statues  mounted  on  their  balustrades, 
does  not  flatter  the  pseudo-classical  quality  of  the 
facade.  Moreover,  Bernini  has  managed  by  what 
seems  an  unfortunate  miscalculation  of  perspec- 
tive effect  to  mar  the  aspect  of  both  church  and 
galleries.  He  has  connected  his  oval  court  with 
the  front  which  stands  far  behind  it  by  a  second 
court,  paraphrasing  as  it  were  the  atrium  of  the 
old  basilica,  which  should  naturally  be  rectangular. 
But  the  side  galleries  which  connect  the  oval  with 
the  church,  instead  of  being  parallel  as  would  be 
expected,  converge  toward  the  oval,  narrowing  the 
court  at  its  entrance  and  making  it  a  trapezoid. 
This  nullifies  the  looked-for  perspective  effect; 
the  galleries  are  seen  so  foreshortened  that  the 
church  seems  to  come  to  the  front  and  loses  its 
scale,  as  a  soaring  hawk  may  look  like  a  fly  pro- 
jected against  the  window-pane,  while  the  receding 
galleries  are  robbed  of  their  apparent  length,  and 
the  oval  colonnades  look  too  high  for  the  advanc- 
ing church.    This  is  in  curious  contrast  with  the 


298 


SAINT  PETER'S 


common  perspective  trick  of  the  Eenaissance 
architects,  by  Avhich  the  walls  of  a  retreating  gal- 
lery are  made  to  converge  into  an  artificial  per- 
spective as  they  retire,  as  in  the  Scala  Eegia  which 
Bernini  built  in  the  adjoining  Vatican,  or  the  still 
more  striking  Teatro  Olimpico  of  Palladio,  where 
the  perspective  of  the  stage  is  managed  in  like 
manner,  making  an  alley  forty  feet  long  of  converg- 
ing buildings  look  an  eighth  of  a  mile  deep.  Any 
visitor  to  St.  Peter's  who  will  take  the  trouble  to 
compare  the  apparent  length  of  the  trapezoidal 
court  as  it  is  seen  from  its  entrance  and  from  the 
front  of  the  church,  will  see  that  it  looks  shorter 
from  the  first  position,  and  will  understand  its 
effect  on  the  aspect  of  the  church. 

The  glory  of  St.  Peter's  is  in  two  things :  its 
dome,  of  which  I  have  said  enough,  and  its  in- 
terior. I  think  the  great  preoccupation  of  Michel- 
angelo, perhaps  of  Bramante  also,  was  with  its 
exterior.  Bramante's  idea  remains,  his  form  is 
lost ;  he  who  would  see  the  church  as  Michelan- 
gelo conceived  it  must  turn  away  from  the  front 
and  find  a  point  of  view  behind,  on  the  Vatican  Hill 
for  instance,  where  he  can  see  the  dome  rising 
over  the  intervening  houses  with  the  lesser  domes 
and  the  three  apses  gathered  about  its  base  ;  or  be 
content  with  such  a  picture  of  it  as  can  be  made 
by  taking  a  photograph  from  this  side,  and  di'aw- 
ing  in  the  lower  parts  which  are  hidden  by  the 


SAINT  PETER'S 


299 


buildings.  Tlie  interior  is  at  first  disappointing 
to  most  persons,  because  they  cannot  find  a  scale 
for  it  and  estimate  its  size.  This  is  sometimes 
apologized  for  by  saying  that  its  proportions  are 
so  perfect  that  its  size  does  not  appear — which  is 
as  if  one  should  compliment  a  giant  by  calling  him 
so  handsome  that  he  looked  like  a  doll.  If  a 
building  is  made  big,  it  is  that  it  may  look  big, 
and  unless  it  does  so  it  fails  of  its  purpose.  To 
anyone  who  would  avoid  this  early  disappoint- 
ment, which  robs  him  of  his  most  valuable  impres- 
sion— his  first — I  venture  to  recommend  an  ex- 
pedient which  I  found  successful.  Let  him, 
entering  from  the  narthex  by  one  of  the  side  doors 
into  the  aisles,  avoid  turning  or  even  looking  into 
the  nave,  especially  keeping  his  eyes  away  from 
the  colossal  sprawling  babies  that  Borromini  has 
set  under  the  vases  of  holy  water,  but  linger  on 
his  way  up  the  aisle,  which  is  as  large  as  the  naves 
of  the  greatest  cathedrals,  accustom  his  eye  to  it 
and  learn  to  appreciate  its  dimensions  as  he  goes. 
Then  when  he  reaches  the  last  bay  and  turns  out 
into  the  nave,  and  so  to  the  central  space  under  the 
dome,  passing  from  one  great  view  to  a  greater 
and  to  a  greater  still,  he  finds  the  growing  sensa- 
tion one  of  overwhelming  grandeur.  Thus,  having 
secured  the  first  great  impression,  he  can  study  the 
elements  of  the  composition  without  losing  their 
scale.    The  great  length  of  the  nave,  which  in  any 


300 


SAINT  PF TEH'S 


front  view  of  the  cliurch  confessedly  frustrates  the 
intention  of  the  first  architects,  obscuring  the 
dome  and  hiding  the  composition,  is  certainly  an 
advantage  to  the  interior.  It  is  not  too  long  an 
introduction  to  the  glory  of  the  central  space. 
The  gradual  expansion  from  east  to  west  gains 
slowly  upon  one  as  he  moves  toward  the  choir,  its 
fulfilment  as  he  reaches  the  centre  is  stupendous ; 
there  is  nothing  of  its  kind  like  it  in  the  world. 

St.  Peter's  was  finished,  as  nearly  as  such  a 
building  can  be  said  to  be  finished,  after  two  cen- 
turies of  labor.  Thirty  popes  had  watched  its 
progress ;  fifteen  architects,  the  most  distinguished 
of  their  day,  had  spent  their  best  inspiration  upon 
it.  Its  growth  had  embodied  the  history  of  the 
Eenaissance.  Beginning  with  the  period  of  its 
early  promise  under  Alberti  and  Kossellino,  it  rep- 
resented the  ideas  of  Bramante  at  the  time  of 
the  most  splendid  aspirations,  of  Michelangelo, 
who,  as  Mr.  Kuskin  says,  raised  the  style  into  all 
the  magnificence  of  which  it  was  capable,  of  the 
phase  of  traditional  greatness  under  Bernini,  of 
decaying  bathos  under  Borromini.  If  the  highest 
achievement  of  the  Eenaissance  in  respect  of  style 
is  not  seen  there — the  purest  forms,  the  finest  de- 
tail— there  is  the  logical  culmination  of  the  en- 
deavors of  the  Renaissance  architects,  the  embodi- 
ment, so  far  as  it  could  be  embodied,  of  their  ideal, 
to  engraft  thre  fruit  of  the  imperial  time  upon  the 


SAINT  PETER'S 


3C1 


stock  of  the  Middle  Ages.  It  was  a  supreme  effort 
to  get  away  from  the  restraints  of  modern  habits 
and  modern  exigencies  into  the  realm  of  classical 
ideas.  If  it  contrasts  sharply  after  all  with  every 
building  of  the  true  classic  age,  it  only  shows,  like 
all  great  human  undertakings,  artistic,  social,  or 
political,  how  men  build  their  best,  and  build 
otherwise  than  they  intend. 


r 


GETTY  RESEARCH  INSTITUTE  ' 


3  3125  01034  3537 


